Undocumented migrants are employed in a variety of sectors
of the South African economy, and form one of the most exploited and vulnerable
groups of workers in the country. Because of their illegal status, undocumented
migrants are compelled to "accept employment whatever the payment,
risk, physical demand or working hours involved."(1)
Undocumented migrants from Mozambique and Zimbabwe are especially prevalent
in the farm sector in Mpumalanga and Northern provinces, and also in the
construction sector in Johannesburg.

The undocumented and thus "illegal" status of
many Mozambicans prevents them from approaching the authorities for redress
of grievances and gives employers tremendous power over their workers.
Human Rights Watch discovered several cases in which employers laid off
workers at the end of a work period without paying them their earned wage.
In one case, workers at a farm near Pretoria were told to "take a
day off" two days before the end of their first work month, only to
find the gate locked when they returned and a new team of illegal workers
employed in their place. They were told to leave the premises or face arrest.
According to the gate-keeper at the compound, the newly hired workers faced
the same fate at the end of their first month.(2)
In the wealthy Parktown suburb of Johannesburg, a Mozambican gardener who
complained to his white employer about not having been paid for the past
two months promptly found himself reported to the police, arrested, and
deported.(3)

Abuses committed by white farmers and their foremen against
undocumented migrants appear to be especially common and severe. Undocumented
migrants working as farm workers are among the lowest paid workers in the
country, earning on average as little as five to ten rands [U.S. $ 1-2]
per day. For example, Sylvester Langa, a farm worker interviewed while
awaiting deportation at Komatipoort police station, told us he earned 250
rands [U.S. $ 50] per month working on a farm.(4)
Local farm workers, although also subject to many abuses, earn significantly
more, about 800 to 1,000 rands [U.S. $ 160-200] per month.(5)
Similar abuses exist in other trades as well, especially in the building
trade. Lodric Ndlovu, who was earning twenty rands [U.S. $ 4] per day working
in the construction industry, told Human Rights Watch that at his previous
job, he was paid eight rands [U.S. $ 1.60] per completed structure, a task
which often took longer than one week.(6)
Undocumented migrants are forced to work very long hours and are abused
by foremen and security personnel. Mr. Ngobeni, a Mozambican farm worker
who told us he earned five rands [U.S. $ 1] per day, complained that he
and other workers were often beaten to make them work harder: "We
must always run when we work, even when carrying boxes of bananas. The
foremen slapped me hard because they said I wasn't working hard enough."(7)
In the words of Captain Liebenberg, Superintendent of Komatipoort police
station,

This poor guy from Mozambique, he will do anything just
to get those few bucks to get on with life. He will take any abuse. The
salaries on the farms are very low--a lorry driver gets fifteen rands [U.S.
$ 3] a day, but normally the workers get between five rands [U.S. $ 1]
and ten rands [U.S. $ 2] a day. And 95 percent are Mozambican.(8)

Captain Chilembe, head of the Internal Tracing Unit at
Nelspruit, also described physical abuse of farm workers by farmers as
"common."(9)

Many of the illegal immigrants working in the rural areas
adjoining the Mozambican border are children, some as young as ten years
old. Human Rights Watch interviewed a group of farm workers near Chongwe,
Mpumalanga, including children as young as fourteen, but was forced to
cut the interview short when a security guard approached us and asked us
to leave.(10) An investigation into child
labor by the Mail & Guardian newspaper found similar instances
of child labor, including two boys, aged fifteen and sixteen, who were
working twelve hours per day for a primary school teacher, earning only
150 rands [U.S. $ 30] per month.(11)

Although the Aliens Control Act provides for a mechanism
to prosecute and fine employers in the amount of 20,000 rands [U.S. $ 4,000]
per "illegal alien," Human Rights Watch found evidence of very
few such prosecutions. According to one source,

Very few farmers employing illegal aliens have been brought
to court in the Mpumalanga province. In the last four years only six employers
have been charged in the courts at Nelspruit, while only two received fines.
One of the problems in prosecuting them has been the difficulty of proving
that an illegal alien is employed on the farm, since a farmer's books merely
show a cash entry under "wages."(12)

During our three-week investigation, Human Rights Watch
was told of only a single prosecution of an employer of undocumented migrants,
involving a contractor and his recruitment agent for employing about forty-five
undocumented migrants on a building site. The undocumented workers from
Mozambique were kept in detention for two months at Pollsmoor prison in
order to be available to testify at the trial.

During the early 1990s, it was a common practice of South
African farmers to hire a group of undocumented migrants, make them work
for a certain period of time (normally one or two months), and then call
the local police station to have the farm workers deported without pay.
Local police stations often were complicit in these practices, and rarely
asked any questions of farmers who reported undocumented migrants for deportation.
Although the practice appears less common today, our interviews suggest
that such collaboration between local police stations and farmers continues
in some areas. One farm worker who had opted to remain in Mozambique after
suffering abuses on South African farms told us that at one farm he worked
on, "at the end of the month, they sent a truck to pick us all up,
and our wages were kept by the boss."(13)

Captain Chilembe, head of the Internal Tracing Unit in
Nelspruit, in the heart of the South African farming area, ensured Human
Rights Watch that police stations had been instructed to investigate farmers
who reported undocumented migrants in order to ensure that the farmer was
not trying to avoid paying his workers by having them deported.(14)
However, when we visited the Komatipoort police station, we interviewed
three young Mozambicans, aged between sixteen and eighteen years, who were
being deported without the police questioning the farmer who had reported
them, and who told us about abuse on the farm were they worked. Eighteen-year-old
Albin Mashaba spoke for the three, describing their experience since coming
to South Africa:

We were arrested last night on the farm. The boss foreman
took us to the gate of the farm and called the police. We worked collecting
bananas, earning five rands [U.S. $ 1] per day. We worked from 6 a.m to
8 p.m. The foreman's name was Ngoma. We had no accommodation, so would
sleep outside in the open. We received only a little food, not enough.
At lunch we had to provide for ourselves. We only got half an hour for
lunch and had to cook and eat very fast. There was never enough time to
eat. There were different foremen, but they all beat us. They always wanted
us to work faster. They beat us with the handle of a knife, and with baton
sticks.

We don't know why we were arrested. The foreman said we
were trying to run away. We couldn't leave, we were forced to stay on the
farm. The farmer had paid us for the last two weeks, but the foreman took
the ninety rand [U.S. $ 18] and called the police to have us deported.
Now we have nothing. The policemen asked the foreman no questions, they
just took us away. It is all very wrong. We were the ones working, and
the foremen were the thieves.(15)

When Human Rights Watch tried to discuss the case of these
three young men with the police officers on duty after the men had been
deported, a disturbing problem came to light. It became clear that no paperwork
had been prepared by the arresting officer, so the three didn't exist in
the files of the Komatipoort police station. A sergeant on duty told us
that he had just told the three young men to get on the bus, which was
picking up the other detainees awaiting repatriation, and "go home."(16)
When we discussed the treatment of the boys on the farm with the sergeant,
he told us that he sees lots of beatings and even dog bites, but that the
undocumented Mozambicans rarely want to press charges: They prefer to be
deported rather than spend a long time in detention while the case drags
on.(17) Captain Nel, superintendent of
the Malelane Police Station, told us about similar problems with prosecuting
farmers:

It is a big problem to prosecute farmers because the Mozambican
has to serve as a witness, and so we have to keep the Mozambican in custody.
Then we have to go to the Attorney-General to get permission to keep them
in the cells. So the farmers just ask for extensions, and the poor farm
worker stays in jail the whole time.(18)

A high-ranking police official who spoke on condition
of anonymity claimed that political interference made it difficult to arrest
and prosecute farmers for hiring undocumented migrants or abusing their
workers: "We started prosecuting the farmers, but it's a big fight.
It's a political issue. If we charge the farmers, they turn against the
government. So higher up, they don't want us to charge the farmer."(19)

The almost complete lack of accountability for abuses
committed against undocumented farm workers has led to some horrific instances
of violence against undocumented migrants. According to one newspaper account,
a Northern province farmer allegedly tested his rifle by shooting at the
leg of one of his farm workers, who as a result had to have his foot amputated.
At the time of the article, the farmer had not been prosecuted, and no
compensation had been paid to the victim.(20)

The case of Florentino Edmundo Amade is equally disturbing.
Amade was working for a crocodile farmer on a farm called Gravelotte, when
he had a disagreement in June, 1993, with the farmer, Mr. Torre. The farmer
denied him food for three days. After three days, Amade was caught by the
farmer trying to eat a piece of the meat he was supposed to feed to the
crocodiles. Amade claims he was beaten by the farmer, and later again by
white police officers called by the farmer, who arrived in two police vans
with dogs. At the end of the beating, Amade had a broken left arm and had
several dog bites from police dogs.

Torre allegedly forced Amade to remain on the farm for
several days without access to medical treatment, out of fear of being
prosecuted for the beating. After three days, Torre took Amade to a doctor
in town in the back of a pick-up truck used for transporting the meat for
the crocodiles. The doctor refused to treat Amade, arguing that he should
have been brought earlier. Amade walked himself to the nearby "black"
Tintswalo Hospital, where he remained for two months to recover from his
injuries. A legal case was opened by Amade against Torre, but it was dismissed
after Torre allegedly lied to the court, saying that Amade had returned
to Mozambique. Human Rights Watch last met with Amade in October 1997 and
noted that his left arm remained virtually unusable and that Amade was
unable to find employment because most physical work caused his arm to
become painfully swollen. The farmer was never prosecuted, and no compensation
was paid to Amade.(21)

Even when the police take action against abuses, it is
often to the detriment of the undocumented migrant who has been victimized.
According to press reports, five young undocumented migrants from Zimbabwe
were languishing in Louis Trichardt prison for more than five months after
being attacked with pick-ax handles, shocked with a cattle prod, and thrown
off a moving pick-up truck by five men in the town of Vivo on the night
of September 28, 1996.(22) According to
the investigative officer, Sergeant Seckle, the five victims were being
kept in custody out of fear that they might otherwise skip the country,
and the case against the perpetrators would have to be withdrawn.(23)
In another case, two Mozambicans who went to the police to report the theft
of firewood which had taken them six weeks to collect found themselves
arrested and deported instead.(24)

Self-employed immigrants involved in informal business
such as vehicle and electrical repairs, vegetable selling, clothes repair,
and shoe mending, are also vulnerable to exploitation. Sometimes, South
Africans engage the services of such persons, but later collect their goods
without paying. If the undocumented migrant dares to complain, he or she
is in danger of being assaulted or reported to the police and deported.
Human Rights Watch interviewed a Mozambican electrical engineer in Soweto
who had a "smoking" car brought to him for repairs by a policeman
in civilian clothes. When the work was completed, the officer returned
in uniform to collect both the repaired car and the hapless engineer, who
was driven to the police station and forced to pay a 500 rands [U.S. $
100] bribe to the police officers before being released. Needless to say,
he was never paid by the police officer for his repair work on the car.(25)
Another self-employed undocumented Mozambican supplied a police officer
with seat covers for his car but was never paid for the service.(26)

Reports have repeatedly surfaced about Mozambican women
and children being sold into forced servitude or sexual bondage in South
Africa by Mozambican smugglers. In 1990, a reporter from the Mail &Guardian
wrote about purchasing two young Mozambican women, aged 14 and 17, and
claimed that many more women were being offered to South African men as
"wives."(27) Anti-Slavery International
documented several similar cases of women being sold to South African men
as "wives" in a 1992 report.(28)
The clandestine nature of border crossings between South Africa and Mozambique
and the rural remoteness of the South Africa border region make it difficult
to monitor such abuses, and it is likely that they continue on some unknown
scale. The significant rise in open prostitution in South Africa since
liberalization of morality laws in the 1990s also raises concerns about
the trafficking of women into South Africa for purposes of forced sexual
labor.

Abuses During the Arrest Process

The Agencies Involved in the
Detection of Undocumented Migrants

A number of agencies in South Africa play an important
role in the detection and arrest of undocumented migrants, including different
branches of the South African Police Service (SAPS), the Department of
Home Affairs, and the South African National Defence Force (SANDF). In
addition to these formal structures, informal community structures are
in existence to "aid" these agencies in tracking down and arresting
undocumented migrants.

Most South African police stations play at least a contributory
role in tracking down and arresting undocumented migrants during their
ordinary duties. In urban centers with large numbers of undocumented migrants,
such as Johannesburg, arrest records suggest that tracking down undocumented
migrants is one of the major occupations of many police officers. Frequently,
undocumented migrants are arrested in order to boost arrest figures. For
example, when the Johannesburg police announced in June 1997 that they
had arrested 11,916 suspects in recent crime sweeps as part of a high-density
crime operation, a closer reading revealed that 5,776 of those arrested
were undocumented immigrants.(29) Another
Johannesburg crime prevention sweep over two days in September 1997 yielded
about 1,400 arrests, of which 736 were undocumented migrants.(30)
Because undocumented migrants are probably easier to track down and arrest
than hardened criminals, including them in crime sweep arrest figures may
improve the image of the police, but it also increases the perception among
South Africans that there is a strong link between crime and undocumented
migration.

The South African Police Service (SAPS) has also established
a number of Internal Tracing Units (ITU), some formerly known informally
as the "Maputo squads," which focus exclusively on the tracking
down, identifying, and arrest of undocumented migrants. By the time of
our investigation, at least fourteen such ITUs were operating in South
Africa, mostly in major urban areas and in areas with high concentrations
of undocumented migrants such as the border area with Mozambique. In addition
to the ITUs, there exists a national Aliens Investigation Unit which concentrates
on the organized inflow of undocumented migrants into South Africa and
certain wide-spread fraudulent practices associated with the issuing of
false documents.(31)

The Department of Home Affairs also identifies and arrests
undocumented migrants, although it focuses mostly on processing the suspected
undocumented migrants detained by the police and army. Human Rights Watch
interviewed a number of persons who had been arrested on the street by
officials from the Department of Home Affairs, while police officials at
Johannesburg Central police station confirmed that persons are detained
directly by the Department of Home Affairs at their offices at 15 Market
Street in Johannesburg. The director of admissions and migrants control
confirmed that the Department of Home Affairs itself traces and arrests
suspected undocumented migrants.(32)

The South African National Defence Force (SANDF) plays
an important role in the detection and arrest of suspected undocumented
migrants. One company, comprising an estimated 200 soldiers, is constantly
deployed on the Mozambican border. The army also uses mobile vehicle control
points as well as road blocks to inspect vehicles and intercept undocumented
migrants as they make their way to urban centers.(33)
Undocumented migrants apprehended while attempting to cross the border
are briefly detained at the substations near the border, where they are
questioned before being transferred to the Macadamia army base.(34)
From the Macadamia base, the detainees are transferred to the custody of
the police at Komatipoort police station on the border with Mozambique.(35)
Major Visser, the commanding officer of the company deployed at the border
at the time of our visit, estimated that on average about thirty-five persons
per day are detained by his troops at the border.(36)
A road block easily nets more than 250 undocumented migrants.(37)
Throughout South Africa, an estimated 6,490 soldiers are deployed each
month to help combat crime, and these soldiers arrested 38,902 undocumented
migrants, compared to 5,075 criminal suspects between January and December
15, 1997.(38)

For its interception operations at the Mozambican border,
the SANDF relies extensively on the 3,300-volt electric fence that separates
South Africa from Maputo province in Mozambique. The fence runs for sixty-three
kilometers between the Swaziland border and the South African border town
of Komatipoort. Constructed in 1986 and turned on in August 1987, the fence
was ostensibly created to prevent anti-apartheid guerrillas from the ANC
and other liberation movements from infiltrating South Africa via Mozambique.
The fence consists of six coils of ten-foot-high razor wire and ten electrified
cables, each capable of carrying 3,300 volts. The fence itself is divided
into eleven sections, with each section serviced by a substation and a
generator to boost the current. Current levels can be set at two levels:
lethal and non-lethal. It is estimated that more than one hundred people
were killed from electrocution by the fence between its turn-on date and
February 1990, when the South African authorities reported that the current
on the fence was turned down to non-lethal levels and that the current
was switched off from time to time.(39)

The use of a lower, non-lethal, current brings its own
problems, with people "sticking" to the fence on occasion. Maria
Macamo lives in Machava, outside Mozambique's capital city Maputo. She
told Human Rights Watch in February 1997 that she had attempted to cross
the electric fence south of Ressano Garcia in March 1996. She threw wet
mud at the fence, and when she did not see any sparks, she assumed that
it would be safe to cross through a passage dug underneath the fence by
border jumpers. However, while attempting to pass underneath the fence,
she accidentally touched some of the wires and got stuck to the fence,
unable to move from the fence until a fellow Mozambican pulled her off.
Her left arm was badly scarred, and she told us that she had lost most
of the strength in that arm. Unable to perform many forms of physical labor,
she now tries to eke out a living selling cashew nuts in Maputo.(40)
She said she heard of many other Mozambicans who have been injured at the
fence. Maputo's Central Hospital confirms that it receives a number of
cases each year of people injured by the border fence, but it does not
keep records.(41)

In addition to these formal structures, an increasing
number of informal structures are also playing a role in tracing and arresting
undocumented migrants. This development follows an August 1994 speech by
Minister of Home Affairs Buthelezi in which he called upon the South African
public to help his department curb the influx of foreigners by reporting
suspected undocumented migrants.(42) Police
officials have encouraged participation of the public by advertising toll-free
"crime stop" numbers which persons can call to report undocumented
migrants and by offering reward money for reporting undocumented migrants.
According to a resident of Soweto, the Department of Home Affairs has similarly
attempted to get the public involved in tracking down undocumented migrants:

There has been a document issued by the Department of
Home Affairs urging the locals to report any Mozambican to the police.
It was sort of an underhanded activity, and they were not up-front about
it since it was not an official document. But I know it was a police number
you had to dial to. There was an unclear Home Affairs seal, and it indicated
the reward was fifty rands [U.S. $ 10] per illegal alien.(43)

Senior police officials at Yeoville and Hillbrow confirmed
that the public is encouraged to call "crime stop" numbers to
report undocumented migrants, and that they regularly trace undocumented
migrants this way.(44) Colonel Raymond
Dowd of the Western Cape Police Services has told the press that almost
ten thousand rands [U.S. $ 2,000] had been paid out in reward money to
the public for reporting undocumented migrants, and encouraged increased
public participation "to enable the ITUs to fulfill their functions."(45)
Jurie de Wet, chief immigration officer for the Western Cape, recently
wrote that his office had "already had discussions with the editor
of the Khayelitsha News to ask the public for their co-operation in the
detection of illegal aliens and it is our intention to eventually reach
every township in the Western Cape in this manner."(46)
The use of citizens to locate and arrest undocumented migrants presents
troubling potential areas of abuse. Desmond Lockey M.P., the chair of the
Parliamentary Portfolio Committee on Home Affairs, told Human Rights Watch
how local persons in his own district of Winterveld near Pretoria had in
the past colluded with the police to get migrants deported so they could
loot the property of the migrants afterwards.(47)

In addition to general involvement of the public, anti-immigrant
community structures are also playing an increasingly active role in the
detection of undocumented migrants. For example, the African Chamber of
Hawkers and Independent Businessmen (ACHIB), one of the hawker organizations
involved in organizing violent protests against foreign hawkers, has established
structures to prevent undocumented migrants from hawking. ACHIB has divided
Johannesburg into hawking blocks, and has appointed "block committees"
in each hawking block to identify undocumented migrants, place them under
"community arrest," and hand them over to the police. At a March
26, 1997, meeting attended by a Human Rights Watch representative, the
Gauteng Member of the Executive Council (MEC) for Safety and Security,
Jesse Duarte and ACHIB representatives agreed to establish a joint committee
to meet regularly to coordinate cooperation between ACHIB and the South
African Police Services.(48) Human Rights
Watch fears that such close cooperation between the police and a group
linked to vigilante violence against foreigners may lead to an increase
in abuses against migrants.

Abuses Committed During Detection
and Arrest

Arbitrary Identification Procedures

All structures involved in the detection, tracing and
arrest of undocumented migrants were accused of abuse by the persons interviewed
by Human Rights Watch. One of the most common complaints was the arbitrary
mechanisms used to identify suspected undocumented migrants for arrest.
The tactics used by the Internal Tracing Units were described in one study:

The internal tracing units of the [South African Police
Service] have become adept at spotting an illegal ... In trying to establish
whether a suspect is an illegal (sic) or not, members of the internal tracing
units focus on a number of aspects. One of these is language: accent, the
pronouncement of certain words. Some are asked what nationality they are
and if they reply "Sud" African this is a dead give-away for
a Mozambican, while Malawians tend to pronounce the letter "r"
as "errow". In Durban many claim to be Zulu but speak very little.
Some of those arrested as undocumented migrants are found with home-made
phrase books in their pockets. Often they are unable to answer simple questions
in Zulu or are caught out if asked who the Zulu king is. Often the reply
is "Mandela."... Appearance is another factor in trying to establish
whether a suspect is illegal--hairstyle, type of clothing worn as well
as actual physical appearance. In the case of Mozambicans a dead give-away
is the vaccination mark on the lower left forearm. Some Mozambicans, knowing
this, have taken to either self-mutilation (cutting out the vaccination
mark), having a tattoo put over it, only wearing long-sleeved shirts and
never rolling up the sleeves, or wearing a watch halfway up the arm to
cover the mark.(49)

Despite an appearance of objectivity, the indicators used
are in fact arbitrary and based upon overly generalized stereotypes. The
reliance on these indicators results in the wrongful identification and
arrest of a large number of South African citizens as undocumented migrants.
Equally troubling is the fact that the identification strategies focus
exclusively on black persons, although there are a large number of non-black
persons who overstay their visas in South Africa. In fact, during our entire
investigation, all persons we saw in detention were black (including Indian
and Pakistani detainees).

Human Rights Watch interviewed a significant number of
persons who were in detention after being wrongfully identified as undocumented
migrants. Benneth Mabaso, awaiting deportation at Komatipoort police station,
related to us how he had lived in South Africa his entire life, but had
received a Mozambican inoculation mark during a visit to Mozambique with
his Mozambican father. A week before our visit, soldiers had destroyed
his ID document because he had an inoculation mark:

The soldiers destroyed my ID document a week before. They
looked at my inoculation mark and told me my ID was false and ripped it
up. They said I couldn't be South African with a mark.(50)

Mr. Mabaso was traveling to a South African town near
the Mozambican border to arrange the funeral for his sister who had recently
died, but instead found himself being deported to Mozambique.(51)

Zephaniah Mabaso (unrelated to Benneth Mabaso) was awaiting
deportation at Komatipoort police station. He claimed to be a South African
citizen, and showed us a copy of his ID, claiming he kept the original
at home out of fear that it would be destroyed by officials. He had received
an inoculation during a visit to Mozambique with his mother, and now "wherever
I go, I get arrested."(52) Dumisa
Mavimbela was in detention at the Witbank police station. He told Human
Rights Watch how he had been detained because he had a Swaziland inoculation
mark, even though he had an ID book on his person. He explained that he
had grown up near the Mozambican border and had been inoculated on a visit
to relatives in Swaziland.(53)

Ethnic groups in border areas can often be found on both
sides of the border: Shangaans live in both South Africa and Mozambique,
and Swazis live in both South Africa and Swaziland. Cross-border traffic
is frequent, and special procedures even exist to facilitate border crossings
for people living in border areas.(54)
One official interviewed by Human Rights Watch compared the Swazi border
to the Berlin Wall, because of its artificial separation of a contiguous
Swazi community found on both sides of the border. Under these circumstances,
procedures that rely heavily on identifying marks such as inoculation scars
often victimize local populations.

The standards used for identifying undocumented migrants
are often absurd. A newspaper report relates the story of a man who was
arrested because, according to the arresting officer, "he walked like
a foreigner."(55) Another person claimed
that the police had destroyed his South African ID without checking its
authenticity because they felt he was "too black" to qualify
for a South African ID.(56) The South African
Human Rights Commission, a state-funded but independent body under the
constitution, has taken up the case of a South African man who had his
ID documents destroyed and came close to being deported because he had
a foreign surname, Banda.

Despite this enormous margin of error, police and the
Department of Home Affairs continue to use arbitrary identification marks
when arresting suspected illegal immigrants. A "foreign" appearance
can mean frequent harassment by police officers. A recent newspaper account
described the experience of a Zimbabwean woman legally in South Africa
who was arrested three times within an hour in the city center of Johannesburg.(57)
Another newspaper account relates the story of Handsome Siwela, whose legitimate
ID documents had not "deterred police from accusing him of being an
illegal immigrant" from Zimbabwe and arresting him three times within
seven months.(58)

The magnitude of the problem of mistaken identification
is perhaps best told by the statistics obtained by Human Rights Watch at
the Lindela private detention camp and discussed in greater detail in the
Lindela section of this report. Our calculations based on the data obtained
suggest that as many as one of out five persons detained by the police
on suspicion of being an undocumented migrant is later released after proving
his or her identity as a South African citizen or a lawful resident. Detainees
in the Gauteng area are brought to the Lindela detention facility by officials
from the Department of Home Affairs as well as by police officials. Lindela
has permission from the Department of Home Affairs to pick up suspected
migrants being detained at certain police stations, such as the Sophiatown
Police Station (formerly Newlands Police Station).(59)
Our investigation discovered that a disturbingly large number of South
African citizens as well as lawful residents in South Africa end up being
brought to Lindela, and that a large number of these persons are actually
detained at Lindela for a period of time.

According to Lindela officials, a large number of detainees
brought to the facility by police officials are released prior to intake
into Lindela because they were able to satisfy the Department of Home Affairs
officials at Lindela that they were South African citizens or were lawfully
residing in South Africa.(60) Human Rights
Watch, with the assistance of Lindela officials, did a count of the number
of persons so released within one month (October 1997) and came up with
a rough estimate of about 10 percent of all detainees brought to Lindela
being so released.(61) This would suggest
that approximately 8,000 South Africans and lawful residents held in police
detention were released prior to intake at Lindela between August 1996
and October 1997.(62)

Human Rights Watch witnessed the release of one such person,
Robert Mhlambi, during our November 24, 1997, visit to Lindela. Mr. Mhlambi,
aged twenty-nine, was traveling in a van with other construction workers
to his job site when the van was stopped by police officers from Booysen
Police Station.(63) He recounted to us
what happened next:

They [the police] just collected us. Then someone failed
to produce papers. Then as I produced my paper, they said, "no, you
are going to meet Home Affairs to prove your papers are correct."
They took all of us.... They didn't even bother to look at the ID book;
they put it into their pocket.... This is my first time. I have only small
money for my return. I do not know the way back to where I am staying in
Soweto.(64)

Mr. Mhlambi was released a few hours after his arrival
at Lindela after convincing the Department of Home Affairs officials that
his documents were genuine. However, he was not provided with transportation
and was forced to find his own way home from Lindela, which is located
quite far from Soweto.

In addition to the many persons released prior to intake
into Lindela, an equally significant number of persons are released after
intake at Lindela after being able to prove their South African citizenship
or lawful residence within South Africa. According to Lindela statistics,
11,037 persons were released on such a warrant of release between August
1996 and October 1997, out of a total of 79,378 persons detained at Lindela.
This represents approximately 14 percent of all persons detained at Lindela.
Taken together, our research suggests that approximately one fifth of all
people detained on suspicion of being undocumented migrants are ultimately
released after proving South African citizenship or lawful, often after
spending considerable time in detention at Lindela or in police cells.
During their October 18, 1997, visit to Lindela, the South African Human
Rights Commission interviewed a number of detainees who claimed to be South
African citizens, at least one of whom was later released from Lindela
after proving his South African citizenship.(65)
Again, it should be stressed that persons detained on suspicion of being
undocumented migrants are almost universally black, despite the fact that
Department of Home Affairs statistics illustrate a high number of visa-overstays
from other parts of the world, such as Europe. This racial disparity in
the implementation of South Africa's migrants control system also raises
troubling issues of racial discrimination in an officially non-racial society.

The Destruction of Documents

Persons interviewed by Human Rights Watch frequently claimed
that police and army officers destroyed their identification documents
after reaching a conclusion that they were undocumented migrants with fraudulent
documents. Phineas Mugwambe, awaiting deportation at Lindela, claimed that
the South African police had destroyed the documents he had received under
the recent SADC amnesty:

My main worry is that South Africa gave me amnesty but
the police don't respect our documents. My documents were destroyed by
the police at Diepkloof Zone 5 on the 26th of November. Now I have no more
documents. I was never even given the chance to tell the police or Home
Affairs about my documents. I'm afraid to get beaten.(66)

When a person fails to produce a required document on
the spot, but claims to have the document elsewhere, he or she should be
given the opportunity to collect the document in the company of an official.
In practice, many suspected migrants are immediately taken to jail, prison,
or a detention center without being given the opportunity to prove their
legal status. A Mozambican interviewed by Human Rights Watch at Pretoria
Central Police Station had been picked up on his way to the Department
of Home Affairs to collect his documents:

The police found me at Kempton Park station waiting for
a taxi to the Home Affairs office. They asked me what my nationality was,
and since I have nothing to hide, I told them I am a Mozambican going to
collect my ID from the Home Affairs office. They then said, "Do not
worry, you will get your ID in Mozambique," and at the same time they
both picked me up and put me into the police van and brought me here.(67)

At the time of our interview, he was still in possession
of the home affairs document indicating his name, date of application and
the possible date of collection. A Congolese person told Human Rights Watch
how he went to the Hillbrow police station to report the theft of his wallet,
which had held his temporary residence permit, and was promptly arrested
and brought to Lindela.(68)

Bribery, Extortion and Theft During
the Arrest Process

Being arrested without documents does not automatically
translate into deportation: in most cases, it appears that the arrested
person will be able to bribe his or her way out of the arrest if he or
she has sufficient money available. From the testimonies gathered by Human
Rights Watch and press reports, such bribery seems pervasive. On occasion,
police officers have even offered to drive suspected persons without papers
to a bank automated teller machine (ATM) to withdraw the necessary funds
for the bribe.(69) Another case described
to Human Rights Watch concerned two men who had been arrested while crossing
the Kruger National Park in an attempt to re-enter South Africa after having
been deported. The two men were arrested and brought to the Skukuza rest
camp, were they were told that a 400 rands [U.S. $ 80] bribe would obtain
their release. The men did not have that amount of money, but the arresting
officers contacted a brother of the men residing in South Africa, who paid
the bribe. The men were then released.(70)

A street trader in Yeoville explained to Human Rights
Watch how two policemen would extract bribes from foreigners every weekend
at the Shoprite store across the street from his stand:

The policemen wait in front of Shoprite every Friday and
Saturday. They wait for foreigners and ask them for papers. If you have
no papers, they take you to the back. But the police station is up the
street, in the other direction. Then they ask you for "special money"--normally
fifty rands [U.S. $ 10]. If you don't have the money, they arrest you and
take you to Hillbrow police station.(71)

Two security guards working as night-watchmen at the Nedbank
building in Johannesburg told Human Rights Watch how they had offered a
bribe to police officers after being arrested while waiting outside their
work office. The police van pulled over at a liquor store, and the security
guards were told to "fill the table" with beers, which they did.
After drinking a large amount of beer and questioning the security guards
about why they had come to South Africa, the police officers talked among
themselves, before one of them said, "anyway, it is too late to take
them to Lindela." The security guards were then asked by the police
officers to "give us some extra money for beer." After paying
the officers 480 rands [U.S. $ 96] "extra money," the two security
guards were told that they were free to go.(72)

Fernando Ntive, now living in Mozambique, was arrested
in South Africa in late 1995. He described how he was asked for a bribe
almost as soon as he identified himself as a Mozambican: "Then a black
policeman came, and asked for drink money, twenty rands [U.S. $ 4]. I asked
him, why do I need to pay this money. He insisted I give him drink money.
I said I wouldn't give it, and if he wanted to see my documents we could
go to my house."(73) He was then taken
to the police station, where "the officer who was searching us demanded
ten rands [U.S. $ 2], so I could leave."(74)
He again refused to pay a bribe, and spent several days in detention before
being deported. Another former deportee, Manuel Ubisse, told of how he
was asked for a bribe after being arrested at Protea Glen: "They asked
if we had 300 rands [U.S. $ 60] "bail" each to give them before
they took us to the police station, because once we were there the bail
amount was going to be very high."(75)
The amount of bribes varies significantly, according to one source:

In most cases, especially here at Protea North police
station, people used to pay up to 300 rands [U.S. $ 60]. But if those policemen
are bankrupt, they even take a mere twenty rands [U.S. $ 4]. The problem
with them is that if they know you are selling something like vegetables,
they keep coming to you, particularly at the end of the month. They come
and threaten you with deportation knowing that you are going to give them
money. During these times, they usually demand up to 500 rands [U.S. $
100].(76)

The conduct of police and immigration officials in some
cases suggests that arrests are sometimes made for the primary purpose
of extracting bribes. In one case documented by Lawyers for Human Rights,
a twenty-six-year-old Mauritian citizen had a serious heart condition and
was required to return to South Africa every six months for treatment.
During March 1997, his temporary resident permit lapsed, partly because
he was bedridden and too sick to have the permit renewed. On March 14,
1997, a group of men in civilian clothing came to the house he was staying
in and arrested the ailing Mauritian as a prohibited person. The men never
identified themselves. While driving around Pretoria, the men told him
that if he gave them 2,000 rands [U.S. $ 400], they could "do something"
for him. When he said he did not carry that sort of money on him, he was
taken to the Pretoria police station. At the police station, the Mauritian
asked for a doctor and a lawyer after being forced to sign a paper listing
his constitutional rights, but was told, "You are an illegal immigrant
and this [i.e. the constitutional rights] doesn't apply to you. There will
be no court case and you will be deported on the first flight." During
his detention, the Mauritian's medical condition started deteriorating
rapidly, as his limbs became swollen and he collapsed repeatedly. When
he was finally taken to the hospital, he was immediately rushed to the
intensive care unit where he remained for two weeks (under police guard)
with a serious heart condition. He was never charged with any crime, and
upon his release his extension of stay application was granted.(77)

Two fruit sellers in the Protea North area of Soweto told
Human Rights Watch how they had been arrested by police officers and forced
to pay bribes of 500 and 700 rands [U.S. $ 100-140] to secure their release.
Since their original arrests, the arresting officers visited the vendors
on a regular basis, demanding fruit and vegetables in return for "no
longer arresting us."(78) Human Rights
Watch also received complaints from some undocumented hawkers that officials
would arrest them in the street, leaving their stands to be looted. Cliff
Mucheka, a Malawian curio seller, told us he was arrested in Cape Town
by an immigration officer while trading in Darling Street, and that his
"curios were left in the street."(79)

Police officers are not the only officials routinely accused
of such bribery and extortion attempts during the arrest process. In our
brief visit to the border, we found similar abuses committed by army troops.
Benneth Mabaso, for example, told us how army personnel had taken 100 rands
[U.S. $ 20] from him and a friend after arresting them at a railroad station,
in a case described in greater detail below.

Human Rights Watch also found significant evidence of
corrupt practices by officials in the Department of Home Affairs. One of
the most disturbing allegations made against Home Affairs officials working
at Lindela(80) is that they require people
to pay bribes to be released even after proving their citizenship or legal
status. A reporter of the City Press newspaper who had come to Lindela
to seek the release of his girlfriend told Human Rights Watch that he was
glad we were present because he would not be required to pay a bribe to
get his girlfriend released. The reporter related how he had come to Lindela
on a previous occasion to seek the release of a South African friend and
was forced to pay a bribe of 360 rands [U.S. $ 72] before the person was
released.(81) Other detainees at Lindela
told of similar experiences, suggesting that even when a person detained
at Lindela is legally entitled to be released, he or she may be required
to pay a bribe to be able to enforce this right.

During our inspection of Lindela, we received numerous
allegations of corruption, mostly leveled against officials of the Department
of Home Affairs working at Lindela. Some detainees alleged that officials
from the Department of Home Affairs would manipulate their departure dates
in order to extract bribes:

When people want to go home, they don't let you be deported
until you pay them money. Home Affairs wants you to pay 100 to 400 rands
[U.S. $ 20-80], whatever you've got. Otherwise, you just stay here. They
let people go without ID, just give them some money.(82)

During their visit, officials from the South African Human
Rights Commission interviewed Mr. Solomon Mashaba, who claimed that he
was asked to pay five rands [U.S. $ 1] to have his deportation delayed.(83)
Mr. Fabion Ndlovu, one of the persons who alleged he was beaten by Lindela
guards, also claimed that he had paid a 100 rands [U.S. $ 20] bribe to
a black Home Affairs official who promised to get him released, although
the promise was not kept.(84) Another man
who appeared to be in his fifties and claimed to be a South African citizen
spoke to us on condition of anonymity:

I have been three weeks at Lindela. I was arrested at
Roodepoort in the Transvaal. I did not have my details [identity documents].
It is 200 rands [U.S. $ 40] to get out without your details. Sometimes
it is more. There have been many, many South Africans who have given the
money in this way. More than fifteen. But I am without money.

If you complain, they [the guards] will beat you and tell
you you are complaining to the white people. I tried to solve my problem.
I approached a white man who took me to the Department of Home Affairs
in the offices. After the white man left, they hit me. They asked me, "How
much have I got?" I replied, "Nothing." After that they
refused to let me out. When I kept talking to them, they said they would
hit me and that I am a problem, so I decided to leave the matter. Now I
will wait to see what they do, or until they force me to another country.(85)

A Zimbabwean named Dennis, who had obtained South African
identity papers by claiming to be from Bophuthatswana during the 1994 reintegration
of the homelands into South Africa, told Human Rights Watch that he believed
he would have to pay a 100 rand [U.S. $ 20] bribe to be released from Lindela,
despite the fact that he had South African identity documents: "I
have been arrested three times, and have paid twice.... Here, everybody
knows that to get out, you need to bribe. Everybody knows that. So many
guys have gotten out of here by paying money."(86)

In response to the allegations of corruption that have
been reported in the media, Lindela posted a 1,000 rand [U.S. $ 200] reward
notice near the intake counter for information about corruption or abuse
by guards. During our November 24, 1997, visit, Lindela management claimed
that it investigated allegations of abuse and corruption, but that up to
that time no disciplinary proceedings against guards had been instituted
because no allegations had ever been substantiated. Lindela management
claimed that three Department of Home Affairs officials had been caught
taking bribes in a sting operation, but they were not prosecuted because
the sting money had disappeared.(87) According
to the chief immigration officer for Cape Town, corruption has been such
a serious problem at Lindela that the Cape Town Home Affairs office was
forced to institute its own system of checks to ensure that persons it
sent to Lindela were not released without its permission.(88)

Physical Abuse During the Arrest
Process

At the Lindela detention facility, we were shown a logbook
by Lindela officials in which they entered any allegations made by incoming
detainees about police beatings or other forms of abuse. The logbook, which,
judging from the entry dates, appeared to have been in use for only a few
days in October 1997, included a number of accounts of beatings by police.
Accompanying photographs of the detainees showed the physical marks left
by the beatings, and often suggested the seriousness of the beatings. The
alleged assaults included the following: Bongani Tshuma, allegedly assaulted
by police officers at the Booysen police station; Nelson Biyela, allegedly
assaulted by police officers at Hillbrow police station; and Manuel Mlungu,
allegedly beaten by police officers at the Florida police station. Given
that these alleged beatings took place within a period of only a few days,
it appears that police abuse, especially police abuse against migrants,
remains disturbingly common in South Africa, partly because of xenophobic
hostility towards migrants.

Public and police hostility against Nigerians is especially
high, because of a wide-spread belief that Nigerians are extensively involved
in the drug trade and other illicit operations. According to two Nigerians
interviewed by Human Rights Watch, the police accompanied by local South
Africans raided their Hillbrow apartment on the evening of November 21,
1996.(89) The eight Nigerian and six Ghanaian
occupants of the apartment--sharing the apartment to minimize cost and
to protect themselves against attacks by locals--were forced down the corridor,
marched down to a police van and taken to the Hillbrow police station.
The Nigerians claimed that they had been severely assaulted at the police
station and had been threatened with shooting.(90)
The two Nigerians interviewed by Human Rights Watch had a number of serious
injuries, including gashes on their heads and legs. One of the two Nigerians,
a medical doctor, claimed that the police had taken about "half of
the nairas and dollars" while searching their apartment, luggage,
and dressing tables.(91) While Human Rights
Watch was conducting the interview, one of the Nigerians went to make a
phone call to his family in Nigeria and was attacked by a group of six
youth, who stole the money he was carrying. Needless to say, he did not
consider going to the police station to report the incident as a realistic
option.

Human Rights Watch also uncovered evidence of physical
abuse of undocumented migrants at the hands of members of the armed forces.
Benneth Mabaso, awaiting deportation at Komatipoort police station, told
us how soldiers had assaulted him after he had alleged that they had stolen
money from him:

They stopped the van and took us out to cross-question
us. They were wearing camouflage uniforms. We insisted that they had taken
our money, and they then beat us badly. When we were on the ground, they
jumped on us with their heavy boots. My ribs were very sore. After that,
the soldiers took us to the hospital.(92)

Mr. Mabaso showed signs of a recent beating and showed
us the medication the hospital had given him for his injuries. Human Rights
Watch brought this incident to the attention of police officials, who appeared
unaware of the incident at the time. Superintendent Liebenberg commented
that he frequently received complaints about theft and abuse against army
personnel, "but when we try to open a case, they say that they just
want to go back to Mozambique."(93)
According to a December 2, 1997, fax from the Komatipoort police station
to Human Rights Watch, this is exactly what happened in one of the cases
we had requested the police to investigate: the victims reiterated their
charges to the police, but said that they didn't want to press charges
because they wanted to go home.(94) Superintendent
Liebenberg told Human Rights Watch about a current court case where the
victim had pressed charges, in which a woman attempting to cross the border
illegally had been raped on March 19, 1997, by a military person.(95)
However, in this case the woman was not kept in custody, and lived with
her father in Thembisa, near Johannesburg. Military personnel often patrol
the border in groups as small as two persons, which may increase incidents
of abuse as there is little direct oversight of their activities while
on patrol.

Our investigation suggests that the fear of long-term
detention while charges of abuse or theft are being investigated is one
of the main reasons why undocumented migrants do not bring formal complaints.
Time and time again we were told by police officials that investigations
into abuses were closed because the undocumented migrant had withdrawn
the charges, opting to "go home." Considering the substandard
conditions of detention faced by undocumented migrants (discussed below)
and the fact that many undocumented migrants are important (if not the
only) breadwinners for their families, this reluctance to remain in detention
for a period of months is not surprising. In addition many migrants expressed
doubt about their chances of obtaining justice in South Africa, a doubt
certainly bolstered by the fact that they had allegedly been assaulted
by representatives of the state in the first place.

As illustrated by the case of Benneth Mabaso, who reported
being beaten by army personnel after complaining about the fact that they
had stolen money from him, complaining about abuses often results in further
abuse, not recourse to justice. In addition, the high level of decentralization
in the migrants control system, the lack of a coherent oversight authority
because of the confusion of agencies involved, and the speed with which
some migrants (albeit by no means all) are deported allow abuses to take
place without their being brought to light, and thus foster a culture of
impunity and a disturbing lack of accountability for abuses. In other words,
under the current system it is entirely possible that an undocumented person
will be abused at a police station and deported soon thereafter without
any outside knowledge of the abuse.

In the opinion of Human Rights Watch, the climate of xenophobia
in South Africa and the common inflammatory remarks of politicians against
migrants, foster the official abuses described in this report. Migrants
are erroneously perceived as responsible for rising crime and as a serious
threat to South Africa's socio-economic well-being.(96)
Our interviews suggest that some police, army, and Home Affairs officials
feel that they are serving their country's interests by abusing undocumented
migrants, as this is likely to guarantee that the migrants will not return
anytime soon to South Africa. The verbal insults thrown at undocumented
migrants during abuse, and the common attitude of police officials that
"you came to this country and brought this abuse upon yourself,"
lend credence to this interpretation.

Threats to Academic and Journalistic
Freedom

Human Rights Watch is particularly concerned about a number
of press reports which suggest that officials from the Department of Home
Affairs are using their extensive powers under the Aliens Control Act to
harass and deport critics of the current government, especially foreign
academics and journalists.

In August 1997, officials from the Department of Home
Affairs burst in on a lecture by American lecturer Aaron Amaral, teaching
a class on Marxist philosophy at the University of the Western Cape. The
lecturer was arrested in front of his class. Amaral is an outspoken Marxist,
and was intimately involved in an organizing effort at the university by
the Socialist Students' Action Committee, a student organization that was
challenging the ruling ANC-aligned South African Students' Congress.(97)
Ten days prior to the arrest, Amaral had received another visit from the
same two immigration officials. According to Amaral, the officials told
him that they were acting on orders from Pretoria (i.e., the headquarters
of the Department of Home Affairs), but seemed entirely unclear of their
assignment: "What was obvious about the intervention was that they
wanted to get me off campus."(98)
The head of UWC's philosophy department, Professor Andrew Nash, agreed
with this assessment of the motivation of the officers: "These officers
arrived with no knowledge of whether he was illegal or legal. All they
knew was that they wanted him off campus. The whole thing smacks of victimization."(99)

Sixty-six academics signed a letter of protest in response,
concluding that "the Department of Home Affairs has no business policing
ideas on university campuses."(100)
Human Rights Watch is concerned that the actions of the Department of Home
Affairs will have a chilling effect on academic discourse in South Africa.
South Africa has a significant number of foreign academics, lecturers,
and teachers employed at its educational institutions and should aim to
foster an environment of free inquiry, rational discourse, and open exchange
of ideas. In the case of Amaral, it was alleged that home affairs officials
described Amaral's work as "confusing our people."(101)
The alleged victimization of Amaral is inconsistent with the internationally
recognized--and constitutionally protected--freedom to seek, receive, and
impart information and ideas of all kind.

The deportation proceedings commenced in February 1998
against Newton Kanhema, a leading Zimbabwean journalist working in South
Africa, also raise the troubling specter that immigration proceedings are
being used to limit freedom of the press in South Africa. Kanhema, a reporter
with the Sunday Independent in Johannesburg, was the author of a
number of muckracking articles critical of the ANC government. Kanhema
exposed a controversial £1 billion (U.S. $ 1.65 billion) arms contract
between South Africa and Saudi Arabia, which called into question South
Africa's commitment to a new "moral" arms exporting policy.(102)
In addition, he conducted a highly controversial interview with Winnie
Madikizela-Mandela a few days before the ANC's 1997 Party Congress, in
which she detailed her troubles with the ANC's leadership and criticized
the government.(103) His journalistic
activities had been repeatedly criticized by top ANC leaders, including
by President Mandela's speech writers who approached the Sunday Independent
and "questioned the advisability" of employing a foreign journalist
as a senior political writer.(104)

In February 1998, Kanhema's wife was presented with a
deportation order while her husband was abroad in the United States on
a four-month Freedom Forum sabbatical at Emory University. The deportation
notice was dated January 14 and gave the Kanhemas twenty-one days to leave
the country.(105) Ostensibly, the deportation
order is based on the ground that Kanhema misrepresented himself on his
application for permanent residence under the amnesty for SADC citizens,
but many observers are of the opinion that the real reason for the deportation
proceedings are political in nature. The director of the journalism program
at Emory University wrote a letter of protest to South African ambassador
Franklin Sonn, commenting that "One could say Kanhema has stepped
on government toes and they decided to withdraw his permanent residence
permit on far-fetched grounds of technicality."(106)
According to Sam Sole, president of the South African Union of Journalists:

While a direct link between the politicians and the officials
has yet to be proved, we have no doubt about the political motive. Threats
were made to Newton to watch out and be careful. He was told he is a foreigner
and should not meddle in our politics.(107)

Conditions of Detention

Once an individual has been arrested as a suspected undocumented
migrant, he or she will spend some time in detention awaiting determination
of status and, where appropriate, deportation. The time spent in detention
varies widely, from a few days for uncomplicated cases from some neighboring
countries, to several months or even over a year for complicated cases.
Usually, the person will first be held in a police cell for a few days,
and later transferred to a prison or a specially designated detention facility
where he or she will stay until his or her status has been determined,
arrangements have been made with the home country through the national
embassy, and transport has been arranged.

For example, in the greater Johannesburg/Pretoria area
(Gauteng Province), the Department of Home Affairs has contracted a private
detention center, the Lindela Detention Center in Krugersdorp, to serve
as a centralized detention facility for the detention of migrants awaiting
determination of their status and/or deportation. Most police stations
and the Department of Home Affairs offices in the greater Gauteng area
bring suspected undocumented migrants to the facility on a regular basis,
either daily or several times per week. Thus, most police stations and
Home Affairs offices only serve as temporary holding facilities, and the
prison system is not extensively used in this area to detain undocumented
migrants (although the prisons do detain foreigners who are awaiting trial
on criminal charges or have been sentenced). By contrast, in Cape Town
most migrants are detained either at local police stations such as Seapoint
police station, or at prisons such as Pollsmoor prison.(108)
Migrants are also detained in police cells in more remote areas, such as
the Komatipoort police station near the Mozambican border.

In the case of Mozambican and Zimbabwean undocumented
migrants, who comprise the vast majority of deported persons, the procedures
are standardized. The Mozambican government has authorized the South African
authorities to determine the nationality of Mozambicans, and thus no individual
approval is needed from the Mozambican authorities prior to deportation.(109)
Zimbabwean authorities visit the Lindela detention facility on a regular
basis, and thus facilitate the repatriation process for Zimbabweans.(110)
For other nationals, the process can be much more cumbersome. If the country
has a diplomatic mission in South Africa, the mission will be contacted
by the Department of Home Affairs to approve the repatriation; in some
cases, where no mission exists, approval for repatriation must be sought
via mail.(111) Human Rights Watch interviewed
a number of people who had remained in detention for lengthy periods of
time because of a lack of cooperation from their embassies. This included
both people from neighboring countries such as Namibia and Tanzania, as
well as people from more distant countries such as Mexico. According to
the governing regulations, detention more than thirty days must be authorized
by a judge of the High Court. Our investigation suggests that more often
than not this does not happen.

Detainees awaiting deportation in police cells are the
responsibility of the South African Police Service, rather than the Department
of Home Affairs. The facilities in the police cells are designed to accommodate
detainees for a period of forty-eight hours at a time, or at a maximum
for a weekend, pending appearance in court. Conditions in the cells are
regulated by the South African Police Service Act No. 68 of 1995.

Detainees held in prisons fall under the authority of
the Department of Correctional Services; conditions in prisons are governed
by the Correctional Services Act of 1959 and regulations under the act.(112)
The prisons most used for the detention of undocumented migrants include
Diepkloof (Johannesburg Central), Modderbee, Pretoria Central, Barberton,
and Leeuwkop. Pietersburg prison in the Northern Province is also used
for the same purpose.

As described above, the Department of Home Affairs has
recently contracted out to a private company, the Dyambu Trust, the operation
of a specialized detention center for undocumented migrants awaiting deportation.
There is only one center of this kind, situated in Krugersdorp outside
Johannesburg, the Lindela Detention Center. According to Home Affairs officials,
"there are no similar centres in other provinces, nor are there any
plans to create such centres. The reason for the establishment of such
a centre in Gauteng was that the police and prison cells in that region
are more overcrowded than detention centres elsewhere. This does not mean
that all the other provinces should bring illegal aliens to this centre.
Instead they should make use of the police and prison cells."(113)

Human Rights Watch visited a number of prison and police
cells where individuals are held awaiting deportation, including at least
one example of each type of facility. In addition we interviewed former
detainees about their experiences and spoke to lawyers and others involved
in refugee advocacy about detention conditions at various facilities. We
visited the Dyambu-Lindela detention facility on three occasions. We also
visited the Modderbee, Johannesburg (Diepkloof) and Pollsmoor prisons,
and a number of police cells, including the Sophiatown (formerly Newlands),
Johannesburg Central (formerly John Vorster), Witbank, Nelspruit, Komatipoort,
Malelane, Hillbrow, Highpoint Satellite, and Pretoria Central police stations.

Lindela Facility

The Lindela detention facility is a privately owned and
operated detention facility for migrants awaiting deportation. Lindela
was formerly used as a compound to house migrant workers. The facility
consists of an administrative block and two housing units, one for adult
males and a second for women and children under sixteen years of age. It
is located in Krugersdorp, about thirty minutes from Johannesburg, and
serves as a centralized detention facility for Gauteng province. The facility
was opened on August 19, 1996, in order to alleviate the chronic overcrowding
of police and prison cells in the Gauteng region.(114)
With an average daily population that fluctuates between 1,200 and 1,800
persons,(115) Lindela is the largest detention
facility for undocumented migrants in the country, and the only facility
specifically designated for that purpose. Most police stations and home
affairs offices now bring suspected undocumented migrants to Lindela on
a daily basis, or at least every few days.

The Department of Home Affairs pays the Dyambu Trust nineteen
rands ninety-five cents [U.S. $ 4] per detainee per day to house and feed
the detainee.(116) According to Lindela
officials, this is substantially lower than the cost of housing a person
in the prison system.

The decision by the Department of Home Affairs to use
Lindela for the detention of undocumented migrants awaiting deportation
was a matter of controversy. Dyambu Trust was created by several prominent
members of the ANC's Women's League, including the present deputy minister
of home affairs Lindiwe Sisulu, who resigned from the trust upon her appointment.(117)
The Democratic Party has called for an investigation into whether or not
appropriate tendering procedures were followed in awarding the contract
to the Dyambu Trust.(118)

From its inception in August 1996 until the end of October
1997, Lindela detained 79,378 persons at its facility.(119)
Of these, 67,186 were repatriated, while another 11,037 were released.(120)
Mozambicans made up an estimated 64 percent of the total, with Zimbabweans
accounting for another 27 percent. Human Rights Watch also spoke with people
from many other African countries at the facility, as well as people from
Mexico, Brazil, Pakistan, and India. Human Rights Watch visited the facility
on three different occasions: on October 8, 1996, six weeks after the facility
opened, on November 24, 1997, and on December 4, 1997. The facility has
also been inspected twice by the South African Human Rights Commission,
and Human Rights Watch was briefed by Commissioner Jody Kollapen on the
findings of his October 28, 1997, inspection of Lindela.

The Intake and Processing of Detainees

Lindela's administrative area consists of several offices
for Home Affairs and Lindela personnel, a sick bay with five beds, and
a number of rooms used for the registration and processing of detainees.
The detainees are registered on arrival, and then taken to an adjacent
room where they are photographed, fingerprinted, and registered in an electronic
database called Unisys. In a second room, detainees receive an identity
card bearing their name, date of arrival, and the country to which they
are likely to be deported. Both rooms are bare, except for cement benches
on which the inmates sit. Detainees are often processed in large groups,
which causes long waiting periods in uncomfortable circumstances. Throughout
our visits, Human Rights Watch observed people sitting or standing in long
lines, often for almost the entire day. The attitude of officials is often
unfriendly, and our own observations support those of the South African
Human Rights Commission:

The officials' attitude is very aggressive and hostile.
The inmates' names were shouted out at them and they are expected to act
in concert with the commands from the officials. The situation is reminiscent
of the old pass law offices or some military barracks. Although it is common
cause that the inmates are of foreign origin, the officials use Zulu as
a language of instruction and this leads to some confusion.(121)

Accommodation

After completing the intake process, detainees are brought
into the general population. The male compound consists of thirty-two separate
dormitory rooms, with an average of thirty-two beds each, facing a central
courtyard. Beds are metal frame bunks with mattresses, and some lockers
are placed in the rooms. There are screened open-air urinals and a shower
building are found in the middle of the courtyard. At the end of the courtyard,
there are a number of toilets in a building with a very bad smell with
pools of dirty water on the floor. The women's compound is essentially
similar, albeit smaller. There are thirteen rooms in the women's compound,
with five in active use and the others being used for storage purposes.

Lindela officials claimed that the facility had a carrying
capacity of 2,500 persons.(122) After
receiving several complaints from male detainees that they were forced
to sleep two persons to a single bed, we decided to conduct a bed count
for the entire compound. Our count found 1,010 functioning beds in the
male compound, and a total of 115 functioning beds in the female compound.(123)
Our inspection of the log book in the front office revealed numerous days
when the population was greatly in excess of the number of available beds,
rising above 1,700 on some days; statistics supplied by Lindela reveal
that the average number of inmates in June and July 1997 was 1,647
and 1,516 respectively.(124) Thus, it
is clear that the population of Lindela often exceeds the number of available
beds, especially in the male compound which accommodates the majority of
the Lindela population. Such conditions are incompatible with the United
Nations Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners, which require
that "[e]very prisoner shall, in accordance with local or national
standards, be provided with a separate bed."(125)

Food

Detainees at Lindela receive two meals per day, at 6 a.m.
and at 3 p.m., a meal pattern similar to that of many South African prisons.(126)
The first meal consists of pap (cornmeal porridge, a staple food) and five
or six slices of bread, while the second meal consists of pap and soup
containing some meat. Meals are taken in a communal dining hall which appeared
spacious enough. Complaints about the quality of the food were one of the
most common concerns raised by inmates with Human Rights Watch. One Somali
detainee told Human Rights Watch that the "soup is bad. It's for the
pigs, I don't eat it."(127) A young
Zimbabwean detainee told Human Rights Watch: "The food is very bad.
Many of us are sick with stomach problems. I eat the food and get sick.
They are poisoning us."(128) Detainees
also complained that the meat in the soup sometimes appeared spoiled, and
that this made the food difficult to swallow. There is a small shop inside
the male compound which sells basic supplies, including bread. However,
since many undocumented migrants are often arrested on the streets and
not allowed to fetch their belongings, many detainees told Human Rights
Watch that they did not have sufficient money to purchase things at the
shop. During our December 4, 1997, visit, several detainees told us that
the guards had denied them food privileges in retaliation for a recent
protest by inmates.(129)

Telephone Access

Lindela officials claimed that each detainee is allowed
one free phone call during his or her stay at Lindela, and has to pay for
additional calls at the rate of five rands [U.S. $ 1] per call.(130)
However, many people told Human Rights Watch that they were never allowed
to make the free call. During our visits, we were often asked to call family
members or friends to inform them about their detention at Lindela. For
example, Michael Mululu, a Namibian who had been detained at Lindela since
October 7, 1997, told us that his repeated requests to make a phone call
had been denied. He told us that he had never been informed of his right
to one free phone call.(131) Four other
Namibians told us that they were required to pay five rands [U.S. $ 1]
to security personnel or office personnel to make outgoing calls, and that
incoming calls were cut off after one minute.(132)
Dennis, a Zimbabwean, told Human Rights Watch: "They say you are allowed
one free call, but there isn't. You have to pay five rands [U.S. $ 1] to
the security. Then they say it is busy. It is busy. So sometimes even if
you pay you can't have the call."(133)

Similar allegations that persons are denied access to
a free phone were made to reporters of the Star newspaper when they
visited Lindela during October 1997. Danny Mansell, operations manager
for Dyambu, reportedly responded to the Star reporters that the
right to a phone call applied only to South Africans, and that the persons
at Lindela were not South Africans.(134)

Abuse of Inmates by Guards

Detainees often complained about the rude behavior of
the security guards working at the facility. In the words of a thirty-six
year old Liberian detainee who asked to remain anonymous:

The guards are very rude. When I ask them something, they
just walk away. And they yell at us and we are supposed to run to obey
their orders. You know, I am not a criminal and should not be treated as
one. I am an honest businessman.(135)

A former Somali inmate at Lindela, now a recognized refugee
living in Johannesburg, related a similar experience with the guards at
Lindela:

In Lindela, the food was a problem. Pap two times a day
and very bad soup with bad taste. Second problem was the security guards
who used to beat the people badly. I saw them beat the people, especially
the Mozambicans. At night you can't sleep because of the loudspeakers on
the roof. They drink at night and then assault the people. If you refuse
an order, you are taken care of, beaten.(136)

During our first inspection of Lindela, Human Rights Watch
was approached by one detainee who complained of having lost some teeth
and sustaining other injuries after being assaulted by a Lindela guard
for complaining about the extremely hot conditions in his dormitory room.
We observed that the complainant did have several teeth missing, with the
gums still bleeding, which would suggest a recent incident. The allegation
was supported by three other detainees who claimed to have witnessed the
incident. The witnesses claimed that the same guard had assaulted them
a few days earlier after they inquired about their deportation date.(137)

During our December 4, 1997, visit, Human Rights Watch
uncovered troubling evidence of a series of three severe beating incidents
involving Lindela personnel which had taken place over the previous few
days. A twenty-three year old Lesotho man, Qoane Francis Motlomelo, visibly
in pain and walking slowly, was brought to us by a few of his friends soon
after we entered the men's compound. He related in detail how he had been
beaten a few days before:

I was locked into a room by myself, room twenty-three.
Yesterday, three men entered the room. I was handcuffed and my leg was
tied to a bed. One man started beating me. He punched me in the face and
kicked me to the bladder. Later, I was urinating blood. My jaw is very
swollen. After beating me up, they left me handcuffed. I was released by
a night shift worker. They beat me from 10 a.m. and they beat me until
5 p.m., changing the people who beat me. That is when they left me. The
next shift released me at 8 or 9 p.m.

They were wearing the very same uniform as the guys walking
around here now. [He pointed to a Lindela security guard walking around
outside. All Lindela staff wear the same outfit with a medium-dark blue
shirt and a reddish tie with the Dyambu trust symbol.] I was taken to the
doctor last night for treatment, around 10 p.m. I couldn't speak last night,
my teeth are very sore. I couldn't walk or go to the bathroom. I am nearly
naked now because my clothes are full of blood. They told me if I tell
the police they will kill me. I am afraid.(138)

Mr. Motlomelo gave an essentially similar statement to
the Krugersdorp police officers who were called at the request of Human
Rights Watch to investigate the allegations.(139)
A Lindela security guard, speaking on condition of anonymity, confirmed
that the beating had taken place and that the screams of Mr. Motlomelo
were audible throughout the Lindela compound.(140)
Mr. Motlomelo's version of events was corroborated by four other Basotho
detainees. One of the men, John Lefosa, told Human Rights Watch how he
and some other men were waiting to collect their Lindela ID cards when
a Lindela security guard entered the room with Mr. Motlomelo and started
beating him. Two other security guards came and joined in the beating of
Mr. Motlomelo in the waiting room, before taking him to room twenty-three.
Mr. Motlomelo exited the room several hours later in the company of a security
guard, disfigured and looking much worse. He was then taken to the Lindela
doctor by Mr. Lefosa.(141)

Human Rights Watch discussed the incident with the Lindela
doctor, Dr. Khota, who confirmed that Mr. Motlomelo had been examined by
him. His short examination report, obtained by Human Rights Watch, noted
that Mr. Motlomelo has a swollen jaw on the right side, a tender abdomen,
and a possible bladder injury. The report further noted that Mr. Motlomelo
had alleged that the injuries were a result of assault, and the doctor
concluded that the patient should remain under observation and be sent
to a hospital if his situation deteriorated further.(142)
Lindela officials ultimately took action against two persons involved in
this incident, who worked at a neighboring Dyambu Trust-owned hostel, not
the Lindela detention facility.(143)

A second serious beating allegation was made by Fabion
Ndlovu, an eighteen-year-old Zimbabwean detainee. According to Mr. Ndlovu,
a black male official of the Department of Home Affairs had called him
and another Zimbabwean by the name of Taylor to the office on Friday, November
28, 1997. The official demanded that they pay a 100 rands [U.S. $ 20] bribe,
or 50 rands [U.S. $ 10] each, and promised to get them released from Lindela.
Mr. Ndlovu paid the bribe, but never heard again from the Home Affairs
official. The next day, Saturday, Mr. Ndlovu and fourteen other inmates
residing in dormitory room eight at Lindela managed to escape, but Mr.
Ndlovu and another inmate were caught at 2 a.m. on Sunday. According to
the sworn statement given by Mr. Ndlovu to the Krugersdorp police station,

The security officer at Lindela called us and started
assaulting us with baton sticks all over the body. They then took us to
the office and let the dogs free to bite us. They continued to hit us and
kicked us with boots. They then thereafter took us to room eight where
they hit other inmates who were there. They again they took us to room
one where they let the inmates hit us. One of the security officers demanded
that I give him my car keys as I had told him the place where I parked
it. I did not give him the car keys.

After hitting and assaulting us they took us to room thirty-four
where they locked us up until Wednesday without giving us food and water
and not allowing us to go to the toilet.(144)

Human Rights Watch observed that Mr. Ndlovu had untreated
and infected dog bites on his left forearm.(145)
His clothes were torn, especially around the arms, suggesting that they
were shredded by the dog bites as Mr. Ndlovu was trying to fend off the
attack.

The third beating incident had taken place the day before
our December 4, 1997, visit. Apparently, the usual weekly train used to
deport persons to Mozambique had not arrived on December 3, 1997, and Mozambican
detainees grew concerned about the length of time that they would have
to spend in detention at Lindela. Thomas Sithole, a Mozambican detainee,
related what happened next:

I was fetched from my room with the other seven who were
from Mozambique. The four security officers who fetched us claimed that
we were planning a strike when we asked them, "When are we going home?"
Then they started taking our ID cards while beating us with baton-sticks
and clenched fists. We could therefore not go into the kitchen for our
card were taken away. One by one these officers assaulted each one of us
while we stood and watched.(146)

Our own observations and the perfunctory medical examination
conducted by Dr. Khota confirm that the Mozambican inmates had been assaulted.
For example, Dr. Khota noted the following during his examination of Samuel
Sithole, one of the Mozambican detainees who claimed to have been assaulted:
"Bruising and linear marks; Buttock with haematoma."(147)
The linear bruises and haematomas on the buttocks of the alleged beating
victims suggest a punitive beating incident in which the victims were bent
over and whipped on the buttocks, consistent with their own testimony about
the incident.

One detainee, David Nkuna, was taken to the hospital on
the evening of December 4, 1997, because of internal injuries. He was rolling
around on his bed and seemed in serious pain. He was bleeding from the
nose and crying, and Dr. Khota said he was feverish and suspected internal
bleeding. Before being taken to the hospital, Mr. Nkuna told Human Rights
Watch: "The security took 100 rands [U.S. $ 20] from me while they
were beating me. They turned me upside down and the money fell out of my
pocket. They let me pick up the coins but took the 100 rand [U.S. $ 20]
note."(148)

This third beating incident was confirmed by many inmates
at Lindela. John Khambune, a Mozambican detainee who arrived at Lindela
on the day of the alleged beating, told Human Rights Watch that "[y]esterday,
they went from cell to cell beating people. Yesterday, they woke us at
night, beating us. This place is bad."(149)
Another detainee from Zimbabwe, Dennis, told us,

The problem is that we are not treated like human beings.
Yesterday, guys were beaten severely. One guy was thirteen years old. He
was beaten severely with a baton stick. And kickings. Very bad. These guys
from Maputo [Mozambique] were complaining that they wanted to go home.
So for this, they were beaten severely.(150)

The press reported that Lindela's operations manager Danny
Mansell had confirmed that an incident had taken place at Lindela the day
before our visit. He claimed that the incident started when 600 Mozambican
detainees, impatient to go home, stormed the Lindela gate and hurled bottles
and other projectiles at guards. Guards retaliated with dogs and batons.
He reportedly acknowledged that guards were accused of beating detainees
hours after the confrontation and admitted that detainees had identified
four guards involved in the post-incident beating from a line-up.(151)

Mr. Mansell also told the press that the detainees later
dropped the charges because they were desperate to go home, but that Lindela
was continuing its investigation of the four guards. A later fax from Mr.
Mansell informed us that no disciplinary action had been taken with regard
to this incident.(152) None of the detainees
interviewed by Human Rights Watch about the incident mentioned a riot-like
situation. Moreover, the testimonies gathered by Human Rights Watch and
the injuries inflicted strongly suggest that the beatings took place while
security guards were in full control of the situation. Thus, the evidence
suggests that the beatings were punitive in nature and were not a proportionate
use of force to re-establish control over unruly detainees.

International standards provide certain guidelines for
the imposition of disciplinary and punitive measures. The U.N. Standard
Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners require that conduct constituting
a disciplinary offense, the types and duration of possible punishments
and disciplinary actions, and the authority competent to impose such disciplinary
measures must all be defined in the regulations of the institution or determined
by law.(153) When asked if Lindela had
such a disciplinary code prior to when the above-described allegations
came to light, a Lindela official replied that they never had disciplinary
problems at the institution and that, if a fight or something would occur,
they just placed the offenders in room one, so the guards could "keep
an eye on them."(154) Human Rights
Watch did not find a coherent system to inform Lindela detainees of their
rights and duties, and there appeared to be no rules or standard disciplinary
procedures in place.(155) The Standard
Minimum Rules also expressly prohibit the kind of physical punishment that
was meted out to the detainees in these cases:

Corporal punishment, punishment by placing in a dark cell,
and all cruel, inhuman and degrading punishments shall be completely prohibited
as punishments for disciplinary offences.(156)

At the time of our visit, it did not appear that any investigation
into these three incidents had been initiated. At the request of the victims,
Human Rights Watch brought the incidents to the attention of the Lindela
management and requested that the police be contacted to conduct an independent
investigation. The Krugersdorp police officers arrived approximately seven
hours after having been initially contacted about the beatings and seemed
reluctant to get involved. It took some insistence by Human Rights Watch
to get the officers to take statements and open an investigation of these
serious allegations. During the day, the ten detainees told Human Rights
Watch that a security officer came into the room where they were waiting
for the police and threatened them with retribution later that night. Concerned
about the safety of the ten detainees in light of this alleged threat,
Human Rights Watch suggested that the detainees be removed from Lindela
and taken into police custody. However, an official of the Department of
Home Affairs, refused to authorize the required body receipt--a document
necessary to authorize the transfer of a detainee from the authority of
the Department of Home Affairs to the authority of the police.

Human Rights Watch believes that this incident illustrates
a serious lack of accountability at Lindela. It would appear that no investigation
into these allegations would have taken place in the absence of the intervention
by Human Rights Watch. Although management was aware of the escape attempt
and the incident involving the Mozambicans, and the doctor had examined
Mr Motlomelo and had included the allegation of beating in his report,
no internal investigation had commenced by the time Human Rights Watch
brought these incidents to the attention of management. Even with the intervention
of Human Rights Watch, the ensuing investigation by the Krugersdorp Police
Station was flawed and marked by a lack of serious concern for the safety
of the alleged victims, even after they claimed to have been threatened
with further harm by a Lindela guard. It took an insistent phone call from
Human Rights Watch to the superintendent of the Krugersdorp police station
to convince the police to investigate the allegations, and even then the
conduct of the police remained extremely reluctant.

The fact that most detainees only remain at Lindela for
an average of five days before being deported severely limits the time
available for the investigation of abuse claims. In the cases investigated
by Human Rights Watch, detainees seemed to have a complete lack of confidence
in the ability of Lindela to investigate claims of abuse, and most detainees
did not even attempt to bring abuse to the attention of management. The
fact that detainees would have to remain in custody at Lindela for several
months in order to allow for an investigation and prosecution further hampers
detainees from pursuing complaints of abuse against Lindela. Time and time
again, Human Rights Watch spoke with people who were reluctant to pursue
their cases because, in the words of Lindela manager Danny Mansell, they
were just "desperate to go home."

In the case of the beating allegations discussed above,
the detainees ultimately withdrew all charges against Lindela security
personnel. According to two of the original complainants, Thomas Sithole
and Armando Nyashale, the complainants were approached by Lindela security
guards and told that they would have to remain in detention at Lindela
"until next December"--an entire year--if they pursued their
case.(157) Armando Nyashale told us, "This
was imprisonment, so we decided to withdraw. The others stopped the suit,
only I and Thomas were left, thus it was futile."(158)
Despite promises to Human Rights Watch by the Lindela operations manager
that the complainants would not be physically threatened or otherwise pressured
into withdrawing their complaints to the police, the two complainants interviewed
by Human Rights Watch after the withdrawal of the complaint said that they
had been intimidated into withdrawing their complaints. They claimed they
were brought into a room in pairs where they were questioned by a white,
out-of-uniform person, whom they believed to be a Lindela staff member,
and a translator.(159) When these allegations
were raised with Lindela management, they replied that these meetings were
part of an internal investigation into the abuse allegations and not an
attempt to interfere with the police investigation.

We engaged in some limited discussions with Lindela about
remedying some of the problems discovered during our inspection of the
facility. One of the improvements suggested by operations manager Danny
Mansell was the placement of an independent ombudsperson at Lindela, to
which detainees could direct complaints. Human Rights Watch agrees that
the placement of an independent ombudsperson would help provide some of
the necessary oversight of the Lindela facility which is currently lacking
and may help limit incidents of abuse at Lindela. In order to be effective,
such an ombudsperson should be truly independent and adequately trained,
and preferably from the South African Human Rights Commission or another
similarly independent body (or a human rights nongovernmental organization)
in order to prevent conflicts of interest. Because of the short period
of time many undocumented migrants spend at Lindela, it is essential that
the ombudsperson is present at the facility on a frequent and regular basis,
at least for one day per week. The ombudsperson should have the power to
investigate a wide variety of complaints, including conditions of detention,
complaints of physical abuse, and claims of bribery and corruption.

Claude Schravesande, Department of Home Affairs Director
of Admission and Aliens Control, told Human Rights Watch that it is possible
that Lindela may cease being used as a detention facility in 1998 because
no funds are available to continue the contract.(160)
At the time of our visit, negotiations between the Department of Home Affairs
and the parliament to obtain funding for Lindela were continuing. A fax
sent to Human Rights Watch by Lindela management informed us that the contract
has been extended until March 1998.(161)

Despite the many serious problems at Lindela, many commentators
and officials consider the use of a centralized facility preferable to
a return to a decentralized system where persons are detained in police
cells and prison facilities only. Police cells and prison facilities are
already severely overcrowded, and detaining migrants awaiting determination
of status or deportation in these facilities presents equally serious problems.
Police and prison officials were uniformly apprehensive about housing a
large number of undocumented migrants at their facilities. When we asked
Superintendent Du Pisanie of the Hillbrow police station about the possibility
of Lindela shutting down, he told us:

I hope Lindela does not shut down. That would create problems.
A few years ago, we had fifty to sixty foreigners here over Christmas.
Home Affairs shut down, and we were left with the problems. There was a
hunger strike and all sorts of demands. These people are not criminals
and should not take up our cell space.(162)

Human Rights Watch agrees with some of these concerns
about a return to a system of detention of undocumented migrants which
relies primarily on police cells and prisons. As documented in this report,
undocumented migrants in detention are in danger of being assaulted and
robbed by criminal suspects in unsegregated environments.(163)
Detaining undocumented migrants in police cells also creates problems of
adequate oversight and complicates the status determination process since
Department of Home Affairs officials must then travel to a greater number
of detention facilities to interview and determine the status of detainees.
In our opinion, these envisioned complications are serious enough to recommend
the continued use of a specialized detention facility for undocumented
migrants.(164)

However, the conditions of detention of such a detention
facility must be in compliance with internationally recognized minimum
standards and must meet the requirements set forth in the South African
constitution and relevant legislation. Our investigation establishes that
the current detention conditions at Lindela do not meet these minimum requirements
in a number of important areas. The Department of Home Affairs, as the
government agency under whose authority undocumented migrants are detained
at Lindela, has the primary responsibility to ensure compliance with these
standards. It cannot abdicate this responsibility by contracting with the
Dyambu Trust for the detention of undocumented migrants.

Prison Facilities

Human Rights Watch visited Modderbee (near Johannesburg),
Johannesburg (Diepkloof) and Pollsmoor (Cape Town) prisons during our investigation.
The number of undocumented migrants detained within the prison system varies
greatly from day to day, and it appears that other prisons in addition
to the ones visited, including Barberton prison near the Mozambican border,
are occasionally used for the detention of undocumented migrants. As the
policy regarding detention of undocumented migrants is in great flux, it
is possible that prisons may play a greater role in the future in the detention
of undocumented migrants. According to the Director of Admissions and Aliens
Control, the Department of Home Affairs was at the time of our interview
negotiating with the Department of Corrections about the use of prisons
to detain undocumented migrants, partly in anticipation of the possible
closure of the Lindela detention facility.(165)
In his opinion, the Department of Corrections was required to house undocumented
migrants brought to their facilities, as this was part of its statutory
duties.(166)

In general, prison facilities appeared to be physically
inferior to the Lindela facilities and much more restrictive of movement.
Conditions of detention in the South African prison system remained similar
to those found by Human Rights Watch during our earlier (1992-93) investigation,
reported in Prison Conditions in South Africa,(167)
although overcrowding had led to a further deterioration of standards in
some cases. According to Home Affairs officials, the South African prison
system is currently running at an average occupancy rate of over 200 percent
and is suffering from a severe staff shortage.(168)
According to officials at both Modderbee and Pollsmoor prisons, all prisons
are currently approved to operate at a 175 percent occupancy level because
of the severe overcrowding problems, and many prisons have occupancy rates
in excess of this. Complaints about lack of access to showers, dirty blankets,
and other unsanitary conditions, as well as the quality of the food, were
more frequent during our prison interviews than at Lindela. On the other
hand, complaints about guard abuse were less frequent, although detainees
did complain about abuse at the hands of South African inmates.

Pretoria Central Prison

Human Rights Watch visited Pretoria Central prison on
October 11, 1996. Prison officials refused us access to the cells and denied
us the opportunity to select detainees for interviews, claiming that such
access would be dangerous because they were understaffed and it would be
difficult for them to guarantee our safety. According to officials, there
were about fifty undocumented migrants in the facility at the time of our
visit, including five women. A less than satisfactory compromise was reached,
whereby the prison authorities selected a few of the detainees to come
and talk to us in the office of one of the prison officials.

Mr. Mafwala, one of the two persons interviewed at Pretoria
prison by Human Rights Watch, described the conditions in the prison to
us, since we had been refused an opportunity to inspect the facilities
ourselves. He told us that all of a group of persons arrested at a protest
at the Union Buildings against the standards used for refugee status determination
(discussed below) stayed in one communal cell. There was a single toilet
in the cell, but it was often blocked, including at the time of our visit.
There was also a shower and a sink in the room, but the water in these
was not working at the time. They had told the guards about the lack of
water, but nothing was done about this. He continued, "We have bunk
beds and mattresses, but they are dirty. The blankets are not washed and
most people are complaining of skin problems. We found the blankets dirty
on our arrival, infested with fleas and lice. We are provided only with
soap, toilet paper, and toothpaste, and wash our clothes ourselves when
there is water."(169) Two meals a
day were served, one at 7 a.m. consisting of pap (porridge) and the second
at midday when the detainees get pap again, with meat on Mondays and Fridays
and with eggs on Saturdays. The meal schedule means an up to nineteen-hour
wait between the midday meal and the next morning meal, a common and persistent
problem in South African prisons.

The second person we interviewed, Goma Nsika, told us
that although the cell lighting was good, the windows were placed so high
that they could not see outside the cell. During their long detention,
the detainees arrested following the Union Buildings protest had only been
allowed outside the cell once, on the Sunday before our visit. The detainees
had requested to be able to use the sport facilities, but this was denied
on the grounds that they were only temporary detainees. Mr. Nkisa also
told us that the detainees had been using the same sheets for the last
month and a half, and that their blankets had not been washed in forty-one
days. He said many people were complaining about bed-sores, and described
the cell as a "chicken-house."

Johannesburg (Diepkloof) Prison

Human Rights Watch visited Johannesburg (Diepkloof) Prison
on May 20, 1997. Diepkloof is a medium security prison, designed for prisoners
serving sentences of five years or more. The prison is divided into several
sectors, called Mediums A, B, and C, and a female section. Medium A is
reserved mainly for unsentenced prisoners, although there are a number
of sentenced prisoners who work in cooking and cleaning. Medium B is strictly
for sentenced prisoners, as is Medium C which is reserved for inmates serving
longer sentences. The female section holds sentenced as well as unsentenced
prisoners in segregated cells. Each cell block includes large communal
cells as well as individual cells.

At the time of our visit, we were informed that since
early 1997, undocumented migrants awaiting deportation were no longer kept
in the prison. However, during our later visit to Modderbee Prison, an
official from the Department of Correctional Services informed us that
approximately 500 female undocumented migrants awaiting deportation were
in the process of being transferred to Diepkloof Prison.(170)
Thus, it appears that Diepkloof continues to be used on at least an occasional
basis for the detention of undocumented migrants awaiting deportation.
Sources indicated to Human Rights Watch that it was likely that Lindela
would be turned into an all-male institution, and that Diepkloof Prison
would become the preferred detention facility for female detainees awaiting
deportation.

Conditions at Diepkloof appeared similar to those at other
prisons. Due to overcrowding, the usual schedule of three meals per day
had been reduced to two meals, with breakfast served at about 8 a.m. and
a second meal served between noon and 2 p.m. When Diepkloof was used more
extensively as a detention center for undocumented migrants in 1996, the
undocumented migrants were kept in communal cells in Medium B, which tended
to get overcrowded following police raids in which undocumented migrants
were arrested. There were no recreational opportunities, so detainees spent
most of their time either cleaning their cells, kitchen, and dining hall
or sitting around in an enclosed and guarded area adjoining their cells.
According to the Diepkloof internal security supervisor, it is difficult
to organize any activities for persons awaiting deportation because they
can be released or deported at any time.

Human Rights Watch interviewed two former detainees from
Diepkloof about conditions at the facility. A Zimbabwean former detainee
told us that he had been arrested at Rosebank, Johannesburg, on May 15,
1996. He told us he was kept at Hillbrow police station for about two weeks
before being transferred to Diepkloof where he spent an additional three
weeks before being deported to Beit Bridge at the Zimbabwean border on
June 14, 1996.(171) He claimed that when
he was deported, the prison authorities kept his belongings, telling him
and his fellow deportees that "anyway, you are coming back soon."(172)
A second former detainee told us that the prison officials would occasionally
deny food to detainees as a form of punishment for refusing to do cleaning
work and other such petty reasons. At other times, the detainees were given
only porridge for food, without any meat or soup. The former detainee also
described a beating incident that occurred during his stay at the prison
in 1995, in which he claimed detainees were beaten, kicked, and slapped
with the aim of "discouraging us from coming back to South Africa,"
and said that other detainees from Mozambique were ill-treated and told
by guards that they must "get used to their country," implying
that such abuse is routine in Mozambique.(173)

Pollsmoor Prison

At the time of our December 10, 1997, visit, there were
6,195 persons detained at Pollsmoor Prison, comprising 2,904 unsentenced
persons and 3,291 persons serving sentences. The occupancy level for which
Pollsmoor was designed is 3,261 persons. Considering that there are always
a number of un-usable cells in a prison this size, and taking into account
the requirement to segregate certain classes of inmates, it is clear that
the prison was operating at a severe level of overcrowding, conservatively
estimated at 200 percent occupancy.

Approximately forty-five Mozambicans were about to be
deported on the day of our visit to Pollsmoor. These men had all been arrested
at a building site in Cape Town on October 10, 1997, and had been kept
in custody for two months while the Department of Home Affairs prosecuted
their employer and the recruiting officer for violations of the Aliens
Control Act's prohibitions on hiring undocumented migrants.(174)
The Mozambican workers were not prosecuted, but had to remain in custody
for the two-month period in order to testify against their employer and
recruiter. One worker told us he had been attacked by South African gang
members--gang violence is a major problem in South African prisons(175)
and on the Cape Peninsula--when the Mozambican workers were initially kept
in a large communal cell with prisoners awaiting trial, and he showed us
a scar on his chin.(176) He claimed that
other attacks by gangsters and thefts had taken place when they were being
transported to the court in Cape Town and while awaiting the court hearings
in the cells at the court.

Later, Human Rights Watch interviewed other migrants from
Uganda, Tanzania, and Malawi who told similar stories about abuse at the
hands of prisoners awaiting trial. Joseph Mugisha, a Ugandan, explained
how he had been robbed upon arrival at Pollsmoor:

I came to Pollsmoor on December 5. We were put here with
hardcore criminals in a communal cell. The criminals took my watch and
my shirt. I was in a communal cell on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, three
days.(177)

Luggy Lianda, a Tanzanian detainee, told us that "[a]t
first, I was put together in a cell with criminals. The other inmates stole
my money, shoes, and trousers."(178)
Another Tanzanian, Aridi Omali, told us how he was kept in a communal cell
for three weeks with prisoners awaiting trial:

When we arrived, we were mixed with the criminals, and
they took my money, 300 rands [U.S. $ 60], and my trousers and shoes. I
was mixed with them for three weeks. They didn't hurt me because I just
allowed them to take my stuff. After that, I sneaked into the cells with
the Mozambicans. The chiefs [i.e. guards] slapped me in the face because
I was not supposed to be in this cell. After that, the Mozambicans complained
to the chiefs saying that I was a foreigner like them and should be allowed
to stay with them. Then the chiefs let me stay.(179)

Cliff Mucheka, a Malawian citizen, was similarly robbed
by prisoners awaiting trial and complained to the guards. According to
him, the guards told him: "Why did you come to this country? It is
your own fault."(180) When Human
Rights Watch discussed these abuses informally with prison officials at
the end of our visit, they acknowledged that suspected undocumented migrants
were kept together with inmates awaiting trial during the intake process.
According to them, all prisoners brought to Pollsmoor on a certain day
are kept in a large communal cell until time can be found to process and
intake them. Depending on the number of persons needing to be processed,
detainees can spend several days in this communal cell, especially over
weekends when staff levels are reduced. However, this explanation does
not address the additional allegations made by some detainees that they
were kept in communal cells for several weeks with prisoners awaiting trial.

The practice of keeping detainees awaiting determination
of status or deportation in the same cells as criminal suspects is in contravention
of the U.N. Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners. The
Standard Minimum Rules require the segregation of different categories
of prisoners, including segregation on the basis of "the legal reason
for their detention."(181) Particularly,
the Standard Minimum Rules require the segregation of civil detainees from
persons imprisoned by reason of a criminal offense.(182)

Living conditions at Pollsmoor were similar to other prisons
inspected. The building housing undocumented migrants is a very large cell
block, and the noise level is deafening, with constant yelling down the
corridors. During our visit, a group of inmates was busy polishing the
floor to the point of a dangerous slickness, while dancing, stamping, and
loudly singing down the corridors in an impressive display. We inspected
one large communal room which had just been vacated by the Mozambican worker
group that had spent almost two months in the cell, and was in the process
of being cleaned. It measured about 5.5 meters by thirteen meters and had
a pile of mats on one side. There was a toilet and a shower in the room
and a series of lockers to store possessions, although without locks.

Most of the remaining detainees were found in groups of
three in individual cells. The tiny cells, measuring about two meters by
2.5 meters, contained only a single bed (a few cells had bunk beds) and
a small sink. The cells appeared very crowded when occupied by three persons,
and the detainees explained that they sleep with two persons in the single
bed, while the third person sleeps on a mat on the floor. Mr. Mucheka told
us that "conditions at Pollsmoor are tough. There are lice, and the
toilets are dirty and unsanitary. We have to eat in the cells but they
are not conducive to eating because of the bad smell."(183)
Aridi Omali complained that "the lice bite me. The blankets are dirty,
like they haven't been washed in a year. It causes sickness."(184)

Sanitary conditions were deplorable, and washing facilities
were often unavailable. Mr. Mugisha told us: "There are no baths so
we can't wash our bodies. I asked to go wash today, but they said the showers
don't work. Even the sink in our cell is broken."(185)
Some of the detainees claimed that they had never been able to wash their
bodies while at Pollsmoor. Even when there were washing facilities available,
the severe overcrowding made it difficult to keep a sanitary environment.
In the communal cell, "there were a lot of people, about fifty-five,
so you have to wash quickly because there are many people waiting and there
is only a bit of hot water. There was only one toilet which we all had
to use."(186) Detainees also complained
that the bright lights in the room, which were constantly turned on, even
at night, hurt their eyes. One detainee told us that he had repeatedly
requested medical attention for a painful toothache for almost two months,
but had not received any medical attention or medication.(187)

Detainees at Pollsmoor receive two meals per day. At about
8 a.m., they receive a breakfast of porridge, two pieces of bread, and
coffee with sugar. The second and final meal of the day, served around
noon, consists of boiled corn, some chicken or pork, four slices of bread,
and a drink that detainees make from water mixed with a powder. For the
twenty hours between the noon meal and the next breakfast, no food is served.
In the words of one detainee, "by 8 p.m., you are very hungry."(188)
The U.N. Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of Prisoners require
that "Every prisoner shall be provided by the administration at the
usual hours with food of nutritional value adequate for health and strength,
of wholesome quality and well prepared and served."(189)
The meal schedule adhered to at Pollsmoor and other prisons is inconsistent
with this international standard.

In addition to the large group of Mozambicans who had
spent almost two months at Pollsmoor, there were other undocumented migrants
at Pollsmoor who were awaiting deportation who had been detained for similar
periods of time. Luggy Lianda had spent about a week in detention at Sea
Point police station before transferring to Pollsmoor, where he had spent
close to two months at the time of our visit. Aridi Omali and Abdallah
Lamazani both claimed to have spent about a month in detention at the time
of our visit. Detainees spend almost their entire time locked down in the
cells, except for when they get food. Joseph Mugisha, who had been at Pollsmoor
for five days, claimed that he had only been allowed outside his cell once
during this time. The U.N. Standard Minimum Rules for the Treatment of
Prisoners require at least one hour of outdoor exercise per day.(190)

Police Cells

Police cells in South Africa are mainly designed for the
temporary detention of criminal suspects and do not have the necessary
infrastructure for long-term detention, whether of undocumented migrants
awaiting deportation or of others (during the course of our visits, we
interviewed a number of criminal convicts who were serving sentences of
a number of months in police cells). Human Rights Watch visited a number
of police stations, including Sophiatown (formerly Newlands), Johannesburg
Central (formerly John Vorster Square), Witbank, Nelspruit, Komatipoort,
Malelane, Hillbrow, Highpoint Satellite, and Pretoria Central police stations.
Detention conditions at most of the police stations were quite similar.
Living conditions are very cramped, in dark, damp, smelly and overcrowded
cells. Washing facilities are often limited, and recreation is non-existent.

The cells at most police stations were of two standard
types: a ten-person cell and a larger twenty-five-person cell. The standard
ten-person cell measured about four meters by four meters, while the standard
twenty-five-person cell measured about four meters by eight meters. Even
when used at their suggested capacity, the cells were extremely crowded,
with mattresses covering the entire floor and almost no space to move around
in the cell. At Witbank, a detainee complained, "We are very overcrowded.
It is bad because we can get diseases."(191)
In most cells we visited, detainees were just lying around on the floor,
talking to each other. Detainees were often locked in their cells for entire
days, and were not able to exercise or engage in physical or recreational
activity.

The crowded conditions and inadequate access to sanitation
caused many of the cells to have a sharp and unpleasant odor. At Pretoria
Central police station,(192) the one available
toilet adjoining the cell in which undocumented migrants were detained
was blocked and filled to the brim with excrement. Dirty water had overflowed
the toilet bowl and covered the floor. The smell, almost unbearable, was
very strong inside the adjoining cell where the detainees were kept. The
detainees in the cell claimed that the toilet had been blocked since before
their arrival at the police cells.(193)
The detainees had volunteered to clean the toilet themselves because of
the smell and out of fear of getting sick, but they claimed that the police
officials refused to provide them with the necessary cleaning materials.(194)
At the Witbank police station, detainees in a large communal cell had covered
the toilet inside their cell with blankets in order to try and contain
the smell.(195)

Ventilation in many of the cells was inadequate, exacerbating
unsanitary and unpleasant conditions. At Pretoria Central and other police
stations, inmates were unable to control windows and thus ventilation.
Inmates at Pretoria Central complained of the excessive heat in the cells
during the summer, saying that they were continuously sweating and uncomfortable
because of the heat.(196) During the night
and in winter, thin cell walls and inadequate blankets often made the cells
bitterly cold. One inmate at Bushbuckridge police station, Moses Matevula,
complained to us about the cold: "We do not have adequate blankets,
so it is cold at night."(197) As
with the prisons we visited, blankets were dirty and often covered with
lice. According to the South African Human Rights Commission, detainees
at Alexandra police station "were held overnight in cells with no
beds or bunks, very few blankets, a shortage of hot water, and often a
shortage of food."(198)

Washing facilities were extremely limited. At Witbank
police station, the sergeant showing us around the facility complained
about the shoddy quality of construction of the facility: "Many cells
are broken, and the toilets and showers often are not working. These buildings
are not strong. Many cells are not working. Six are in good order, three
don't work."(199) At Pretoria Central
police station, the shower available to detainees was not working, allowing
only the "earliest bird" to wash, "but only his face."(200)
At Bushbuckridge, only cold water was available, and inmates were not given
soap to wash with.(201) At Kameelsdrift
police station, detainees had only a washbasin available.(202)

Because many police detention facilities were not designed
for long-term detention, facilities for food preparation were often inadequate.
Detainees at Kameelsdrift complained that they receive only bread and tea
(without sugar) and a small amount of pap (porridge) and meat, but never
vegetables.(203) At Bushbuckridge police
station, detainees complained that "we always eat beans," describing
both lunch and dinner as consisting of porridge and beans, sometimes with
cabbage or chicken.(204) A Pakistani detainee
at Pretoria Central complained that food was often inadequate and described
the soup as "water in which hundreds of people washed themselves until
it becomes solid."(205)

Although most police stations provided three meals to
inmates, sometimes only two meals were provided, ostensibly because of
inadequate staff. Male detainees at Pretoria Central police station also
complained of thirst and did not appear to have free access to drinking
water, a direct violation of the Standard Minimum Rules which provide that
"Drinking water shall be available to every prisoner whenever he needs
it."(206) Further, detainees at Pretoria
Central police station ate in their cells, despite the very strong odors
emanating from the blocked toilet. Male inmates told us, and Human Rights
Watch observed, that soup was brought to the cell in a communal container,
with bread on the side, and that they all ate from the same container without
being given spoons.

Although men and women were separately housed in all police
cells visited by Human Rights Watch, juveniles were often housed with adults,
and undocumented migrants awaiting deportation were often housed with prisoners
awaiting trial. At Witbank, for example, there was a Swazi awaiting deportation
who was housed alone in a cell with a large number of criminal suspects,
while the cell with most of the undocumented migrants also contained a
mentally disturbed criminal suspect. At Bushbuckridge police station, several
juveniles were housed in cells with adults. Police officials at Johannesburg
Central police station told us that the limited number of cells available
to them due to renovation work forced them to mix criminal suspects with
undocumented migrants awaiting deportation.(207)

We also received several complaints about the lack of
access to health care. At Bushbuckridge, we were approached by two inmates
in separate cells who had severely infected, septic wounds and who claimed
that they had not had adequate access to a doctor. A third man showed us
a serious rash and claimed that the police officials had refused to take
him to a doctor. A Zimbabwean woman who was transferred to Lindela from
Queenstown police station a few days before our visit complained about
the lack of health care at both the police station and Lindela: "I
have been sick for two weeks, but they give me no treatment, no injection,
nothing. I haven't even seen a doctor, I don't even know if there is a
doctor here."(208) Luggy Lianda,
from Tanzania, was detained at Sea Point police station in Cape Town for
a week and complained of a toothache: "I was ill with a toothache
and told the police about this, but nothing was done about this."(209)

Despite these deplorable conditions, suspected undocumented
migrants often spend significant amounts of time in police detention, either
awaiting deportation or transfer to another detention facility. A Zimbabwean
woman at Lindela recounted to Human Rights Watch how she and a group of
Zimbabwean women had been detained at Queenstown police station for three
weeks:

We were arrested at Burgersdorp, near East London, all
of us together, on the 13th of November.... Home Affairs took us to the
police station, and the same day they took us to Queenstown police station.
They put us in prison [sic] for three weeks. The food we were given was
just bread and soup, the soup was just flour and carrots, and tea without
sugar. Three times a day we were fed. We were mixed with criminals, sometimes
there were more than twenty people in the one cell which was about four
meters by four meters. We slept on mats on the floor. The Home Affairs
people didn't even come to see us until the 1st of December. Then they
took us here in a combi [a minivan], but they didn't give us any food during
the trip which took the whole day.(210)

Other people interviewed by Human Rights Watch had also
been in detention at police cells for several weeks, such as Dumisa Mavimbela
who had been arrested on November 14 and was interviewed by us at Witbank
police station on November 29. Lucas Morris, interviewed at Lindela, told
us he had spent a month in detention at C.R. Swart police station in Durban
prior to transfer to Lindela.

Military Detention

Although we were briefed by military personnel about the
scope and nature of their operations at the Mozambican border, and we observed
these operations during a night mission, Human Rights Watch did not inspect
any military detention facilities. While our team was observing the military's
border operations, a single Mozambican was caught while attempting to cross
the border. He was brought to one of the substations adjoining the border
fence and asked to sit on the curb where he remained until we left about
four hours later. One of the soldiers offered the detainee some food, apparently
out of his own personal rations.

According to military officials, undocumented migrants
detained by the military are normally kept at the substation for a few
hours while being questioned by military personnel to gather information
about how they entered the country, and especially about organized smuggling
groups.(211) Detainees are kept at the
substation until these interviews are done, and until enough undocumented
migrants have been apprehended to make a trip to the Macademia base worthwhile.(212)
If persons are detained for more than four hours, they are given water
and food. At the base, the platoon commander hands over the undocumented
migrants together with an incident report and a body receipt. Detainees
are kept at the base until they are brought to the Komatipoort police station,
where they are handed over into the custody of the police. If undocumented
migrants are found who seem to have valuable information about smuggling
rings or other matters, they may be kept at the base for further interrogation.

Unlawful Long-term Detention of
Undocumented Migrants

According to the legislation covering the detention of
undocumented migrants, detainees must be informed of the reason for their
detention after the first forty-eight hours in detention, and their detention
must be reviewed after a period of thirty days by a judge of the High Court
(as discussed in Appendix A to this report). Despite these statutory requirements,
Human Rights Watch found all of the persons at Lindela who had been detained
there for more than thirty days to have been detained without review, in
some cases for several months. The case of Valentim Daimone Manheira seemed
typical of these long-term detainees. Mr. Manheira, a gentle man in his
fifties, told us about his experience at Lindela:

I came to South Africa in 1956, when I was a small boy.
I lived in Pretoria West, Court Street Number 76. I am a panel beater [auto
body repairer] by profession. I got arrested in Pretoria on June 25, 1997.
The police man said 'we don't need people from other countries here.'...

The police just brought me to Lindela, and I have been
here ever since. They say they must contact the Brazilian embassy, so I
just wait. They don't care that I have been here so long. I don't know
now if they will get me a permit or send me back to Brazil. I know nobody
in Brazil, my parents died a long time ago when I was small.

I have never been to court to see a judge, just to the
Brazil embassy in Pretoria. In three months, I have only talked to Home
Affairs twice (sic). The first was when they gave me my [Lindela identification]
card. The second was the 13th of October, when they took me to the embassy.
On the 27th of November, we went again to the embassy.

I have no money left. My wife doesn't even know I am here.
She lives in a remote part [of KwaZulu] and has no phone. I just follow
the guards' orders and they leave me alone. But people do get beaten, I've
seen it myself. They beat you very bad if you try to escape.

I only have one set of clothes and they are all broken.
When I wash my clothes, I wear a blanket. All my possessions are at my
home in Pretoria. I don't know if they have broken into the house by now,
it has been so long.(213)

Mr. Manheira was not alone. According to data obtained
at Lindela by Human Rights Watch, twenty-seven persons were detained for
periods longer than thirty days at the time of our December 4, 1997, visit.(214)
Mr. Babo Munelele, a suspected undocumented migrant from the United Kingdom,
had been at Lindela since August 1, 1997, a period of four months.(215)
Mr. William Tambo, a suspected undocumented migrant from Mexico, had been
at Lindela since August 5, 1997.(216)
There were also a Cameroonian, several Namibians and Angolans, a Botswanan,
a Somali, a Malawian, as well as two Pakistanis and an Indian who had all
been detained well in excess of thirty days at Lindela.

In addition, many of these individuals had spent additional
time in police custody prior to transfer to Lindela. For example, David
Petrus, a Namibian citizen, told us that he had been detained at Pollsmoor
prison in Cape Town for three weeks from the time of his arrest on August
28, 1997, until his transfer to Lindela on September 18, 1997.(217)
A Tanzanian detainee, Lucas Morris, told us,

I was arrested in Durban in August. I have had piece jobs
there for a year. I was kept in C.R. Swart police station for one month.
Then I went to the Westville jail in Durban. Then here to Lindela. We were
told that we must wait here until January.(218)

It does not appear that there is any working system in
place to track the time undocumented migrants spend in detention and to
ensure that their statutory rights are enforced. Lindela management had
tried to implement a computer tracking system for detainees at its facility,
but this system was not operating correctly at the time of our visit.(219)
Especially in the case of detainees who are transferred from other institutions
after spending significant amounts of time in detention at these prior
institutions (most commonly police cells but also prisons), there is no
system to calculate the time that detainees spend in detention prior to
arrival at Lindela. Thus, the legal rights of detainees often go unenforced.
In the particular case of the twenty-seven persons detained at Lindela
for more than thirty days, Mr. Erasmus, the ranking Department of Home
Affairs official at Lindela, agreed to release the twenty-seven detainees
after the matter was brought to his attention by Human Rights Watch. He
admitted that the correct legal procedures had not been followed in these
cases and promised to remedy the situation. As with other detainees released
from Lindela, the twenty-seven were released from the facility without
any offer of transportation. It appeared to Human Rights Watch that most
of the men were not in possession of any money, and their clothes were
ragged after their long detention. Many of the men had to find their own
way home under these trying conditions, often to locations as far away
as Cape Town, more than 1,500 kilometers away.

As at Lindela, long-term detention of suspected undocumented
migrants while their status is being determined by the Department of Home
Affairs is a problem at Pollsmoor. One especially disturbing case is the
fourteen-month detention of Eddie Johnson at Pollsmoor by the Department
of Home Affairs. Eddie Johnson claims to have been born in South Africa
in the 1970s, but to have moved to Zambia when he was about three years
old.(220) He returned to South Africa
in the early 1990s, successfully obtained South African identification
documents, and voted in the historic 1994 elections. One early morning
in August 1994, about ten immigration officers burst into his Cape Town
home and arrested Eddie Johnson on four immigration-related criminal charges.
On December 21, 1994, he was found not guilty on three of the charges and
convicted on the fourth charge, and given a sentence which was totally
suspended for five years. As he walked out of the court room, Eddie Johnson
was again detained by immigration officials. On the basis of their suspicion
that Mr. Johnson was lying about his origins, the Department of Home Affairs
detained him at Pollsmoor for the remainder of 1994 and the entire year
of 1995. But the Department of Home Affairs was unable to deport Eddie
Johnson, because the Zambian and Tanzanian High Commissioners refused to
recognize Mr. Johnson as a citizen of their respective countries. Eddie
Johnson was ultimately released on January 16, 1996, after the University
of Cape Town Law Clinic obtained a court order for his release on the basis
that his constitutional rights had been violated.

Although it appears that the Department of Home Affairs
in Cape Town does generally abide by the requirement to seek judicial approval
for detentions in excess of thirty days, attorneys complained to Human
Rights Watch about the general lack of scrutiny with which some judges
approved such applications. One attorney told Human Rights Watch about
the case of three Pakistani seamen whom he was able to get released in
October 1997 after they had been detained for six months under the Aliens
Control Act. Two different judges had approved extensions of detention,
at first for a period of 120 days. It appeared from the file that the second
judge had not been notified of the lengthy period for which the persons
had already been detained and did not bother to ask. The form did not even
have a space for the signature of the detainee, strongly suggesting that
the detainees had never been notified of either the application or the
decision of the court. The entire proceedings as described by the attorney
suggest an unjustifiable lack of diligence by the courts in reviewing applications
for the deprivation of liberty of persons.

The Deportation Process: The Train
to Mozambique

After their status as deportable undocumented migrants
has been determined and approval for repatriation has been obtained from
their home countries, the Department of Home Affairs will repatriate people.
The repatriation can take a number of forms, depending on the location
of the home country. Repatriations to Mozambique and Zimbabwe--which account
for the vast majority of repatriations--are mostly done by train and by
cramped prisoner transfer vehicles. Repatriations to more distant countries
such as Malawi are most often done by air.

Human Rights Watch interviewed a number of persons who
had previously been deported by train to Mozambique. Although the former
deportees were interviewed on separate occasions, they all told a remarkably
similar tale about the abuses they faced on the train while being deported.
The experience related by Jack Ballas was typical of these testimonials:

I was deported via train to Mozambique three weeks ago.
We are made to run to the train fast, so we don't see the station. We have
to take off our belts and put them on top. The reason for this is to make
it easy for the officials to see whether one has money. We are made to
squat with our head between our legs. The police sjambok us on the train
to make sure we keep our heads down. They ask us if we have money, and
they beat us all the way to Ressano Garcia. It takes a long time, about
ten hours. We have to sit like that the whole time. It gets very painful
and people get swollen. Many people are bleeding, many people become unconscious.
The police just laugh. If you straighten your head, you have to pay fifty
rands [U.S. $ 10], or you get beaten. If you pay the money, you can sit
straight. We do get water, but only one person is allowed to fetch water
for everyone.

In Ressano Garcia, we must jump while the train is moving.
The train is very crowded and they close all the windows. It gets very
hot and people are sweating. The police go through our luggage and take
what they want.

We saw many people get off the train after paying a fee.
They allow them to jump off when the train is moving. You have to pay 150
rands [U.S. $ 30] or whatever you have.(221)

The remarkable similarity between the accounts from people
who were deported and interviewed at different times lend a high degree
of credibility to them. Zitto Vilakazi, another Mozambican, told us his
story:

I was arrested and deported to Mozambique in October 1997.
We have to run to the train. Then we have to run all the way to the front
of the coach. Then they tell us to squat with our heads between our legs.
When we sit down, the officials start asking for money when we have our
head down. If you have money, you can sit up. It cost 50 rands [U.S. $
10], 100 rands [U.S. $ 20], it depends. If you can't pay, you must keep
squatted. Then the beatings start. If you can't pay, they ask you "do
you want to reach home or what?" It is a threat, and many then pay.
If you try and keep your money, you won't reach home. Those who have money
are released before reaching the station when the train slows down.

I did refuse because I had no money, and they didn't beat
me. But I saw many getting beaten because the police knew they had money.
Those who don't have money must suffer the chafkop system [the squatting
position] before they are deported.

The journey took the whole night. We left Lindela at 6
p.m. and arrived at Ressano at 7 a.m. The police ask us to buy them cool
drinks and beat us if we have no money. And the police insult us for being
Shangaan from Mozambique. You can't even write the things they say, they
speak about our mother's vaginas and things. We don't get water or food.
The police will sell you things but if you have no money, you get nothing.
This is not my own country, but we should be treated well. We suffer a
great deal for being Mozambican.(222)

During an earlier investigative visit to the Mozambican
border area during July 1996, we received similar testimonials from recent
deportees. One person interviewed claimed that the police jumped on top
of his toes and used iron implements to squeeze his fingers to extract
bribes, and that the police officers had thrown one of his fellow Mozambicans
from the train into the Komati River "for having tried to protect
himself and his money. He had a lot of money since he had just been caught
early that morning."(223) News reports
have published similar accounts of the deportation process to Mozambique.
An October 1997 newspaper article gave an account by Geoffrey Mabuna, a
recent deportee, describing how the deportees were forced to sit in the
chafkop position and how many deportees had bribed their way off the train.(224)

The Department of Home Affairs also deports persons directly
by vehicle, and similar incidents of bribery and physical abuse involving
Home Affairs officials have taken place. Captain Chilembe of the Nelspruit
Internal Tracing Unit described a case to us in which the responsible officials
were actually caught, prosecuted, and convicted:

There was a case involving two Home Affairs officials
who were transporting people to the border. They went to the border and
had the deportation order stamped, but they came back with the people.
We set a trap and they were caught and are now serving three years in jail.
All of the illegals had to pay 100 rands [U.S. $ 20] each, and those who
couldn't pay were assaulted. They testified in court because they were
assaulted, staying in detention for three months to testify.(225)

Because of the systematic extortion and bribery on the
train and at earlier stages in the deportation process, many of those deported
reach Mozambique or Zimbabwe without any money or possessions except for
the clothes they are wearing. Deportees are dropped just across the border,
in the town of Ressano Garcia in the case of Mozambique and Beit Bridge
for Zimbabwe. Without any financial means, the return trip home is often
complicated. Deportees are often forced to sell their last possessions
to make the trip home. A deportee interviewed by Human Rights Watch in
Mozambique told of his and his friend's three-week attempt to make their
way home:

We spent three weeks at Gaxa trying to get money for the
Panthera Azul bus to Maputo. My friend sold his leather jacket at
the trade market and waited for me to sell my shirt so that we may go.
My shirt was bought after three weeks. We then arrived at Maputo and stayed
in the streets for two months trying to get money for the Xibomba
[bus] to go to Chokwe. We used to stay hungry. During that three weeks
we only managed to get bread for three days per week.(226)

In fact, most deportees choose not to go home or to remain
in Mozambique. Instead, they return almost immediately to South Africa
for a variety of reasons: to retrieve property left behind, to be reunited
with family or friends, to return to a job, or simply to try again to escape
the desperate poverty that plagues Mozambique. Our research and interviews
suggest that undocumented migrants deported from the greater Johannesburg
area are generally deported without being given the opportunity to retrieve
their possessions. Belongings left behind are a major impetus for returning
to South Africa following deportation. As one deportee told us in Mozambique:
"I am not thinking about going back, except to collect my belongings.
If it weren't for that, I would not have to [go back]."(227)
Requests to the authorities to retrieve property often go unheeded: "When
you are arrested and you tell the police you want to go and get your things,
they pay no attention. They say 'You came here with nothing, not even money.'"(228)
Since undocumented migrants are normally arrested at their place of work
or on the street, and often have spent several years working in South Africa,
they often leave behind significant property in South Africa and are then
forced to return to retrieve their property. Once they have returned to
South Africa, they will most likely continue their previous employment,
and be again at risk of arrest, possible abuse, and deportation. As Mr.
Ncuma, an official with the Mozambican Department of Labor told Human Rights
Watch:

Lots of Mozambicans are now deported who leave all their
property behind. This is now rife in Johannesburg, a very common form of
abuse. Some even have bank accounts. That is why people come back illegally,
they must collect their property.(229)

The practice of repatriating undocumented migrants without
their possessions is not universal. In Cape Town, according to chief immigration
officer Jurie de Wet, officials are required to ensure that undocumented
migrants awaiting deportation have had the opportunity to retrieve their
possessions, and undocumented migrants must sign a document saying they
have been afforded the opportunity to retrieve their possessions prior
to deportation.(230) According to Mr.
De Wet, this procedure is required by internal guidelines of the Department
of Home Affairs.(231) Even if allowed
the opportunity to retrieve valuables prior to deportation, many undocumented
migrants may refuse this opportunity because of the fear that their valuables
may be taken from them by corrupt officials under the current system of
repatriation.

Time and time again, when we concluded interviews with
detainees or deportees with the question "What will you do now?,"
the answer was, "I will return to South Africa." Human Rights
Watch often interviewed people who had been previously deported, and at
detention facilities and police cells we frequently observed officials
recognizing detainees whom they had previously deported. One 1995 study
discussed a Mozambican who had been deported twenty-one times,(232)
and Captain Van Vuuren of the South African Police Service claimed to a
group of reporters in 1995 to know of a Mozambican who had boasted of having
crossed the fence between Mozambique and South Africa more than one hundred
times.(233) When Human Rights Watch interviewed
detainees awaiting deportation at the Komatipoort border, all asserted
that they would return to South Africa,(234)
lending credence to a Mozambican newspaper report that claimed,

It seems that people are not exaggerating when they say
that more than 80 percent of the three thousand young people who get off
[the train] at Ressano every Thursday morning return [to South Africa]
the very same day or within two days of their repatriation, and by the
same illegal routes.(235)

The fact that many undocumented migrants appear to be
deported multiple times during a single year suggests that using the total
number of deportations to estimate the total number of undocumented migrants
in South Africa at any given time is a very unreliable method of calculation.
Thus, the increase in deportations in recent years in South Africa may
be due to stepped-up policing efforts rather than an increase in undocumented
migration to South Africa.

Complications associated with deportation formalities
often result in lengthy periods of detention, and at times make it much
more difficult for a deported person to return home. In one case, a Mozambican
crossed the border from the most southern area of Mozambique into South
Africa at Kosi Bay, in order to buy a can of paraffin at the local South
African supermarket.(236) He was arrested
by the Internal Tracing Unit and had to be deported through the Lebombo
border post several hundreds of miles away as this was the only border
post through which Mozambicans could be repatriated, by agreement with
between the South African and Mozambican governments. Since he had no money,
the deportee, now several hundreds of miles away from home, decided to
cross back into South Africa and work on a local farm to earn the money
to return home. When he finally earned enough money to travel home, "as
he was getting off the bus at Jozini he was again arrested. He had been
away from his home for six months and still had to buy his can of paraffin."(237)

5. The range of wages is based on interviews
with former farm workers currently involved in informal businesses in Soweto,
recent deportees in Mozambique, street vendors in Johannesburg, and farm
workers awaiting deportation.

31. Anthony Minnaar and Mike Hough,
"Illegal in South Africa: Scope, Extent and Impact," Paper presented
at the International Organization for Migration (IOM) Conference in Pretoria,
August 25, 1996, p. 7.

33. Human Rights Watch interview with
Major Olivier, Company Commander, Group 33, South African National Defence
Forces, Komatipoort, December 1, 1997. Vehicle control points involve a
single vehicle or helicopter which is deployed to quickly establish a control
point which operates for only a few hours before being moved to a new location,
while road blocks involve a more extensive deployment and usually remain
in one location for a longer time.

34. Ibid.

35. Ibid.

36. Ibid.

37. Ibid.

38. These were the figures given by
Minister of Defence Joe Modise in response to a parliamentary question
from Colonel Nyambeni Ramaremisa (NP). "SANDF Operations Net 38,902
Illegal Immigrants," SAPA, December 15, 1997.

39. Alex Vines, "Mozambique:
Slaves and the Snake of Fire," Anti-slavery Reporter, Series
VII, 1991 vol.13, no.17, pp.41-43. The current was apparently turned off
during periods of heavy fighting on the Mozambican side of the fence, in
order to allow local persons to seek refuge in South Africa. Apparently,
the South African authorities created a number of gates in the fence in
order to facilitate the temporary movement into South Africa of Mozambicans
fleeing heavy fighting. Minnaar and Hough, Who Goes There?, pp.
141-43.

54. Major Olivier of the SANDF explained
how at the Swazi border, people can get permission from the Induna (chief)
to cross the border for a day trip at designated informal border crossings
manned by citizen force personnel. Human Rights Watch interview with Major
Olivier, Komatipoort border area, December 1, 1997.

59. Human Rights Watch interview with
Sergeant Singer, Sophiatown Police Station, November 28, 1997. Sergeant
Singer told us that "a bus from Lindela comes to pick them [the suspected
undocumented migrants] up. I will call to arrange it. A Mr. van der Lith
at Lindela is the one I make arrangements with." Officials at Lindela
confirmed that they were authorized to transfer suspected undocumented
migrants from certain police stations to Lindela. Human Rights Watch interviews
with Judas and Dave, Lindela staff, at Lindela, December 4, 1997.

61. In our company, a Lindela official
counted the total number of persons released prior to intake and divided
the number by the total number of persons brought to Lindela during October
1997. His calculations suggested an 11 percent release rate prior to intake.

62. As said before, the total number
of persons admitted into Lindela during this period was 79,378. 8,000 persons
would represent slightly more than 10 percent of this figure.

80. The Department of Home Affairs
maintains an office at Lindela with several staff persons, responsible
for processing the detainees at Lindela. According to Lindela officials,
detainees cannot be released from Lindela without the approval of the Department
of Home Affairs.

104. Ibid. Carl Niehaus, a member
of Parliament and of the ANC's National Executive Committee, also singled
out Kanhema for criticism in a published November 1996 letter to the Star
newspaper. President Mandela's attack on the "intrusion of this self-same
media within our ranks ... to encourage our own destruction" during
his political report at the ANC's 1997 Party Congress was also widely perceived
as a direct reference to Kanhema's controversial interview with Winnie
Mandela.

108. The Department of Home Affairs
in Cape Town and Durban also send undocumented Mozambicans and Zimbabweans
to Lindela after they have been cleared for deportation, as this allows
them to take advantage of the regularly scheduled deportation trains which
leave from Lindela.

109. Human Rights Watch interview
with Mr. Claude Schravesande, Director, Admissions and Aliens Control,
Department of Home Affairs, Pretoria, December 3, 1997. In a few cases,
the Mozambican border authorities have refused to accept an individual
deportee, on the grounds that they are not satisfied that the person is
a Mozambican national. It appears that non-Mozambicans sometimes claim
Mozambican nationality in order to be deported to Mozambique, because it
is relatively easy to re-enter South Africa from the Mozambican border.

122. Human Rights Watch interview
with Mr. Frans Le Grange, Lindela official, at Lindela, November 24, 1997.
This same figure was given to the South African Human Rights Commission.
SAHRC report, p. 2.

123. The following number of beds
were counted in the thirty-two rooms in the male compound. Figures in parenthesis
indicate the number of broken beds in that room: 34; 34; 36; 34; 32; 36;
24 (10); 35 (1); 16 (18); 29 (5); 31 (2); 29 (5); 30 (2); 31 (6); 31 (1);
34; 34; 34; 34; 30 (4); 34; 34; 34; 33 (1); 25 (9); 33 (5); 26 (4). This
adds up to a total of 1,010 functioning beds, and 81 broken beds. In the
women's compound, rooms 33 to 39 were locked and used for storage, although
they did contain a number of beds, 175 functioning beds in total. The rooms
in use in the women's compound contained the following number of beds,
with broken beds in parenthesis: 19 (5); 26 (2); 24; 22; 24 (2). This adds
up to 115 functioning beds in the rooms in use.

129. Human Rights Watch interview
with John Lobo, Mozambican, Lindela, December 4, 1997. The detainees made
similar statements to the Krugersdorp police sergeant called to investigate
beating allegations. Statement of Thomas Sithole to Krugersdorp police
sergeant, December 4, 1997. The incident is discussed in greater length
when discussing guard abuse of detainees below.

143. Fax of Danny Mansell to Human
Rights Watch, dated December 23, 1997. The fax stated in relevant part:
"Regarding the case of the Lesotho man, we unfortunately could not
press the charge of assault legally as he elected to withdraw his case
in order to go home. We have however, taken disciplinary action against
the two persons involved. One was dismissed and the other reprimanded."

154. Human Rights Watch interview
with Frans Le Grange, Lindela official, at Lindela, November 24, 1997.
Room 1 is the room closest to the compound gate, and there is always a
guard on duty at this location.

155. Lindela claims it provides each
detainee with a sheet of paper listing certain "rights" which
Lindela will guarantee to detainees. Some of these rights, such as the
right to one free phone call, do not appear to be enforced. The list of
rights is only available in English, and most of the detainees Human Rights
Watch interviewed did not speak or read English. The detainees interviewed
by Human Rights Watch did not seem to be aware of the existence of this
document, let alone its content. The Standard Minimum Rules require that
each prisoner be provided with written information about "the regulations
governing the treatment of prisoners of his category, the disciplinary
requirements of the institution, the authorized methods of seeking information
and making complaints, and all such other matters as are necessary to enable
him to understand both his rights and his obligations and to adapt himself
to the life of the institution." Rule 35(1). They also require that
the information be conveyed orally if the prisoner is illiterate. Rule
35(2).

159. Ibid. According to Thomas Sithole,
the other alleged beating victims did not want to talk to Human Rights
Watch during our December 11, 1997, follow-up visit out of fear of retribution
from Lindela staff.

163. It was such concerns which led
the European Committee for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or Degrading
Treatment or Punishment (CPT), which considered the question of detention
of foreign nationals in a 1997 report, to recommend that prison not be
used for the detention of immigration detainees in prisons: "Even
if the actual conditions of detention for these persons in the establishments
concerned are adequate--which has not always been the case--the CPT considers
such an approach to be fundamentally flawed. A prison is by definition
not a suitable place in which to detain someone who is neither convicted
nor suspected of a criminal offence." European Committee for the Prevention
of Torture and Inhuman and Degrading Treatment or Punishment, 7th General
Report on the CPT's activities covering the period 1 January to 31 December
1996 (Strasbourg: Council of Europe, 1997), p. 12

164. This is also the general position
of the European Committee for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or
Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CPT):

In the view of the CPT, in those cases where it is deemed
necessary to deprive persons of their liberty for an extended period under
aliens legislation, they should be accommodated in centres specifically
designed for that purpose, offering material conditions and a regime
appropriate to their legal situation and staffed by suitably qualified
personnel.

171. Interview with former Johannesburg
(Diepkloof) Prison detainee from Zimbabwe, originally deported in June
1996, now a security guard for Callguard Security in Parktown, in Johannesburg,
July 28, 1997.

172. Ibid.

173. Interview with former Johannesburg
(Diepkloof) Prison detainee from Zimbabwe, originally deported in July
1995, now a security guard for Grey Security, in Johannesburg, July 27,
1997.

215. The ID numbers given to Lindela
inmates allow for an accurate determination of intake dates, since they
include the date of intake. Mr. Munelele's ID number was 199708010045,
reflecting that he was brought to Lindela on August 1, 1997.

219. In the opinion of Human Rights
Watch, it is the responsibility of the Department of Home Affairs, as the
government agency under whose authority people are detained at Lindela
and elsewhere, to keep track of the time people spend in detention and
to ensure that the statutory limits are enforced.

220. Human Rights Watch interview
with Lee Anne de la Hunt, Director, University of Cape Town Law Clinic,
Cape Town. December 8, 1997. The case of Eddie Johnson is discussed in
Anton Katz, "Immigration and the Courts," Southern African
Migration Project Migration Policy Series No. 3 (1997). The case is
also the subject of an unreported CPD High Court decision, Eddie Johnson
v. Minister of Home Affairs, Case No. 1560/1995 (delivered August 14,
1996).

222. Human Rights Watch interview
with Zitto Vilakazi, Mozambican citizen, Lindela, December 4, 1997. Phenias
Mugwambe, another Mozambican citizen interviewed by Human Rights Watch,
gave yet another similar account: "I was deported in March 1996. I
never reached Mozambique because I have a lot of property in South Africa.
We are taken to the backyard of Lindela to the station. We have to run
while getting beaten by the officials. When we get to the train, we have
to remove all of our clothes except for the trousers. We have to remove
our belts. If your belt or shirt is nice, you never see it again. And we
have to bend our heads. At the same time, they start beating us but you
can't see who beats you because your head is down. They use the leather
belts to beat us. If you want to straighten your neck you have to pay money.
After you pay money, you are their friend. The amount varies, depending
on the distance from Johannesburg. If you pay 20 to 50 rands [U.S. $ 4-10]
, you can only straighten your neck. If you want off the train, the fee
is 200 rands [U.S. $ 40]. If you are from Johannesburg and want to be released
before Witbank, the fee is 150 rands [U.S. $ 30] and up. If you are near
Komatipoort, the fee rises to 200 rands [U.S. $ 40]and above." Human
Rights Watch interview with Phenias Mugwambe, Mozambican citizen, Lindela,
December 4, 1997.